


The Blue Winter Rose

by dhazellouise



Series: Lyanna's Harem [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, femHarry Potter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-07-01 13:10:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 41,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15774768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dhazellouise/pseuds/dhazellouise
Summary: After he sacrificed himself to save the lives of many, Harry Potter was ready for the Afterlife. However, what he didn't expect was for Death to give him another chance to live in another world. Reborn as the only daughter of Rickard Stark, Harry grew up as Lyanna Stark; the girl who would become the catalyst for the wars to come.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and A Song of Ice and Fire, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from writing this story.
> 
> AN: This story is unbetaed so I sincerely apologize for the grammatical errors that I failed to notice. O.O
> 
> You all might notice that I'm posting back my old stories in this fandom. It's because some psychopath hacked into my computer and deleted most of my stories in my AO3 account, which means including all the comments, kudos and bookmarks my stories have accumulated through the years. So I'm sorry if my stories keep popping up in the search browser. I apologize for the inconvenience.

 

* * *

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

* * *

 

_**Crack** _

Harry James Potter appeared in the middle of a crowded boulevard after he had narrowed down the exact location of his quarry.

There was a round of surprised gasps and screams from the muggles the instant he appeared in their midst, but he paid them no mind and immediately leaped into action.

With his wand in hand, he barrelled right through the shock bystanders, pushing them away from him; blazing emerald eyes focused on the greasy mop of hair, whom he identified as his target.

"Get out of the way!" Harry shouted at the people as he gave chase, "I SAID MOVE!"

Sprinting and leaping past people, who had fallen down on the ground after he had inadvertently shoved them away. Harry felt mildly guilty at his actions, though it was nothing compared to the riot of worry churning in his stomach.

_There are too many people around here. The body count will be numerous if that bastard throws that vial._

Harry weaved this way and that, trying to wade through the bustle of human bodies. Some people cursed and hollered at him. Yet he ignored them all, still continuing to yell, "MOVE! MOVE! MOVE!"

When people heard his yells and saw him dashing towards them, the sea of daily grinders and tourist alike, cleared a path for him. Their eyes wide in either curiosity, confusion and alarm when Harry darted through them.

However, Harry's eyes were only glued upon the tall figure, who tried to blend into the crowd, but ultimately failed to do so.

Derek Lovatt, of course, couldn't completely shake him off.

Harry had the wizard tagged earlier right before the potion brewer had broken through his leg-locking charm, and then apparated away. The locator spell had afterwards led Harry to this location; a crowded sidewalk, in broad daylight, and teeming with so many muggle-witnesses around.

It was a catastrophe bound to happen, especially when Lovatt was carrying that volatile potion that the dark wizard had taken from the Malfoy's Brewery; a new explosive concoction that the prestigious family had kept under wraps until someone had tipped the Aurors off.

Harry, and others from the Auror Division, had swept into the place and raided the cellars where they had made the explosives; tearing off wards and blasting through doors to enter the premise as they did so.

They had detained most of the men, except for the Potioneer, who was now making a run for it, and who was stupid enough to try and cross the busy street.

 _Fuck!_ Harry thought, stepping out of the curb and right into the middle of the road to follow the foolish wizard.

_**BEEP! BEEP!** _

A car sharply swerved away from him, honking loudly as Harry cut through the main street.

"HEY WATCH IT!" He saw a taxi driver call out at Lovatt, when the man was nearly ran over by the taxi cab.

_**BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!** _

Other vehicle owners started blowing their horns angrily. Despite the danger of being hit by a car, Harry didn't take his eyes off the fugitive, who was clumsily maneuvering around the moving vehicles.

Some cars veered into the sidewalk but most slammed into each other from behind or on the sides.

People began shouting and screaming in panic.

"WHAT'S GOING ON?!"

"OH MY GOD!"

"He's almost run over by the car!"

It was becoming a huge pile up while more and more muggles in the area were drawn to the commotion. The chase was getting dangerous. If one of those cars would hit Lovatt, and accidentally have that potion dropped into the ground, it would be the end of it.

Everything within three blocks from there would be engulfed in flames and the scale of human casualty would be insurmountable.

Harry must stop him before it would happen. So, Harry ran. His heart hammering fast against his rib cage while adrenaline thundered in his veins.

The sound of wheels squealing against the asphalt could be heard along with the shouts of fear and confusion from the civilians. It added to the cacophony of noises in the area.

He smelled burnt rubber as he jumped over the hood of an unmoving car. It had been careening in his direction before it had come to a screeching stop in front of him. A tendril of white smoke emitting from the wheels as he leaped.

"YOU IMBECILE!" Harry heard the SUV driver yelling at him while Harry ran on top of his car. The car bobbing up and down as he bounded over, his steps thudding on the metallic hood of the red SUV.

_THUMP- THUMP- THUMP- THUMP-THUMP_

His foot hit the ground a moment later. He immediately rolled out of the way when another car suddenly appeared to his left. Regardless, the black sedan bumped him hard, but not enough to send him crashing to the ground.

Harry staggered for a bit at the impact, losing a few precious seconds as he tried to regain his footing.

"WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU MAN?!" the owner of the car shouted after rolling his tinted window down. "GET THE FUCK OF THE ROAD!"

Once again, Harry ignored the muggle and broke into a sprint.

Considering the danger of what the potion could do the civilians within the vicinity, Harry was now tempted to simply apparate and stun Lovatt.

The Statue of Secrecy be damned.

There were already half a dozen muggles who had witnessed him apparating on sight. Surely the Ministry would understand if he use magic in front of these people? After all, the Obliviators could always alter the memories of the eye-witnesses present.

Still, if Harry did apparate and tried to stun Lovatt, the man might dropped the potion purposely and kill everyone and destroy everything within three blocks from there.

Lovatt had chosen this location for a reason.

Harry must act fast. There was no other choice but engage the fugitive directly.

Spotting the only man wearing a tattered robe, he concentrated on the place just ahead and hastily apparated.

_**CRACK** _

Harry popped back in, just between two cars, which was already in standstill due to the ongoing pile-up.

Lovatt was just six paces away when Harry appeared.

He saw the man's scrawny hand twitched around the potion tightly. Lovatt raised his hand up a scant inches, and was about to throw it down when Harry made his move.

At well past thirty, Harry Potter was at his prime. Leanly muscled from the years of chasing Dark Wizards and the last stragglers from the last war, Harry reacted without a second thought.

" _ **Accio Potion!"**_ he thought, and the potion instantly came sailing towards him.

Its contents a swirling purple pool within the small vial. The sight of it made Harry felt frightened at the possibility that it might explode from the abrupt movement.

What Harry did not expect, however, was for Lovatt to cast a  _Reducto_  curse at the potion while it was still flying.

" _ **Reducto!"**_

 _Shit!_ Harry thought in alarm. His wand already flicking for a shield charm, when the door of the car beside him suddenly opened. The door slammed into him, Harry's shield charm disintegrated.

"What in -!" he heard the muggle say.

However, with lightning-fast speed, Harry's hand moved to cast one final spell that came to his mind,  _ **"Stupefy!"**_

A red light shot from his wand and towards Lovatt. He wasn't able to see what happened next as the vial reached his hand.

But the Reducto curse was not too far behind.

The curse hit him squarely in the chest, blasting him away. Fiery pain radiated from the new wound. He could almost feel his skin blister, the scent of burnt flesh and cloth hit his nostril a second later. Involuntarily, his grip on the vial tightened. He felt it crack from the pressure. Its contents swirled and shook, and then it began to glow within his hand.

Bright, purple light emitted from between his fingers, while he could feel the small, spiderweb crack of the vial begin to widen. The light from the vial bathed his entire hand in a violet hue and made his veins visible.

At once, Harry knew that the vial was about to explode. His heart stuttered at the thought.

Harry didn't hesitate.

Within half a second, he made a decision that would save many lives.

 _I'm sorry, Ginny…._ was Harry's last thought as he gripped the vial and apparated away from there, away from the muggle area teeming with so many innocent lives, and appeared into a deserted location where the superheated vial instantly detonated.

_**BOOOOOOOOOOOOMM!** _

It seemed that not too long ago, when he, Hermione and Ron had set a camp there, after leaping from the back of the dragon during the War.

Now, the explosion engulfed the entire area, incinerating everything in its path… along with the Boy-Who-Lived, who failed to escape in time.

...

There was the blinding light at first. Afterwards, he could only feel the all-consuming heat, the flare of pain, and then….  _nothing_.

* * *

In the darkness, he floated….Dead to the world, until a sense of awareness trickled into him.

He heard someone speaking to him, with a voice so cold like the winter, and deep like the dark abyss that kept him.

"As the one to have successfully joined the three hollows…and the one who had destroyed the wand that holds the power to control me. I will give you one chance at life. One chance to live in another World...Now, be reborn… Harry Potter."

He heard the voice said, before he was engulfed in a warm, white light.

* * *

* * *

**Chapter 2: Forget Me Not**

* * *

They said, when people died, memories of their lives would flash before their eyes.

And they weren't wrong.

But they weren't right either.

Harry saw no flashes of memories.

He only saw one important memory...

Right before the darkness claimed him and the memory faded.

Until everything he ever knew were completely forgotten.

.

_He was in the forbidden forest again, surrounded by Death Eaters and with Voldemort standing in front of him._

_And he was about to die._

_A streak of green light was already headed in his direction, too fast and too close for him to avoid in time._

_It was inevitable when the curse hit him squarely in the chest and killing him instantly._

Harry jerked awake with a gasp, sitting straight up from the bed with his legs tangled with the bed sheet.

His wife, Ginny, was there at once to calm him down.

"Sshhh…sshhh, Harry," She murmured soothingly, rubbing a hand over his back where Harry could feel the trickle of perspiration sticking against his shirt.

"Sshh…It's ok, it's ok…just a nightmare, Harry, just a nightmare, come here and lie back down. It's going to be alright…" Ginny was saying to him.

Harry's heart was still thundering wildly against his chest. His breathing was uneven when he slowly settled back down on the bed.

"Was it in the forbidden forest this time?" he heard Ginny asked, propping herself on her elbow to look at him.

"Yes." He responded, his voice came out hoarse as he placed a hand over his forehead where his scar used to be. He didn't feel any throbbing pain, but he still rubbed his fingers over the unmarked skin like he usually did when his scar hurt.

Ginny didn't say anything. She simply tightened her hold around him, and after a moment, she began to sing.

"Day and night they fought, yet enemies they were not.

But lovers with a secret song guarded in their hearts.

They danced between the darkness and the light,

Between love and hate, the agony and delight."

Harry allowed Ginny's mellifluous voice to wash over him. His wife always sung to him every time he had a terrible nightmare. Listening to her helped Harry settle his chaotic thoughts and drive away the inexplicable fear that those nightmares would often bring to the surface of his mind.

The war was over, yet the scars remained. Broken bones and injuries of the body took time to heal, but the wounds of the mind took longer, even the scars still held the echo of the lost and suffering he had gone through.

Harry closed his eyes, listening to his wife sing and trying to forget the images that still haunted him to this day.

The memory of him dying alone, sacrificing himself to spare the lives of many.

Harry never wanted to die alone again.

He continued to listen to Ginny sing until the wild drumming of his heart slowed and beat in time with hers.

.

The cold, morning breeze made gnarled tangles out of his already ruffled jet-black hair as Harry flew on his broomstick, zooming past the forested area just behind the two-story house that he and Ginny had bought since they had gotten married.

He always liked to set out flying early in the morning, to clear his head after a restless night.

Ginny's singing had soothed back the first flood of unwanted memories, but flying in his broom had always swept away the rest of it to the deep recess of his mind, where he hoped those memories would forever remain undisturbed.

It was winter, but it didn't stop him from taking to the skies as he always did in the morning when he wasn't at work.

Despite the nearly freezing temperature that brought a bright flush to his cheeks, and made his breath mist when he exhaled, Harry immersed himself to the joy of flying.

Ginny had warned him that the visibility might be thick this time around and had advised him not to go flying at a high altitude.

However, Harry didn't heed his wife's advice and shot up towards the skies, spiraling through the clouds with the biting wind buffeting his flight.

He could hardly see from up there, even when he had cast a spell on his glasses to keep it from fogging up. Yet it didn't dull the thrill he usually felt from riding the fastest broom that came out that year.

A slight pressure on the handle, and he was shooting downwards once more, nosediving sharply towards the wintry landscape below. The wind pressing tightly against his skin, cold and unforgiving while his emerald eyes were glittering with exhilaration as he neared the top of the trees.

With another sharp pull, he brought his broom to a sudden halt before he could crash in to the trees. Soon enough, he was zipping horizontally above the tree line, his foot nearly brushing the pine needles while a wide grin formed across his lips.

By the time he climbed off his broom, Harry was already smiling, no longer troubled.

He dropped by the greenhouse situated at the left side of the house.

Ginny had gotten the hobby of properly maintaining the garden from Mrs. Weasley, who had always preferred to grow her own vegetables and flowers in the Burrow.

Before Harry had bought the house, Ginny had suggested a greenhouse added to their home, explaining that it would be very convenient for them to have one, especially during winter.

Harry had agreed, of course, provided that Ginny wouldn't be placing garden gnomes as well. He recalled how his wife had laughed at his words.

As he entered the greenhouse, Harry instantly made his way to the flowerbeds. He carefully took a handful of one particular flower and made a small bouquet. Then, he headed back inside the house.

He followed the sound of his wife's voice. Harry could hear her singing and silently mused that Albus must have woken up early that morning and Ginny was feeding their son.

Placing his hand behind his back, he hid the flowers that he had taken from the green house. Harry halted just outside the open doorway of the nursery room, only stepping forward to lean his shoulder against the door frame.

He watched as his wife sang their first born son to sleep. Ginny had a beautiful voice, Harry discovered this when Ginny was asked to perform in one of those Ministry parties five years ago.

Ginny had always been a talented witch, nearly good in everything she set her mind to, even in Quidditch and in her line of work as a sports editor for the Daily Prophet. Thus, it didn't come as a shock to Harry when Ginny could sing as well.

Warmth and tenderness bloomed inside his chest as he continued to gaze lovingly at his wife and son. Ginny was cradling Albus in her arms and was rocking from side to side, singing softly to the tune that he had become familiar with.

Seeing them like this, in this achingly familiar setting, Harry felt the strong protective instinct surged inside him. He wouldn't let anyone turn this picture into ash like Voldemort had done before. He vowed that he would do everything he could to protect his family.

At last, Ginny gently laid their sleeping son back in the crib and Harry strolled silently towards her.

"Good morning," He greeted, wrapping his arms around his wife, hugging her from behind. He nuzzled her head, basking in her warmth and inhaling the scent which he loved so much; the scent of flowers that naturally clung to his wife.

He heard her soft giggle before Ginny answered, "Good morning, Harry."

A smile tagged at the corners of his mouth as he promptly showed her the flowers that he had plucked from their greenhouse.

A bouquet of ** _forget-me-nots._**

Ginny's favorite.

"What's this?"

"For the blue of your eyes," He said in jest, placing his chin on top of her head and tightening his hold around her.

"My eyes aren't blue, Harry." Ginny responded in amusement, turning around to look at her husband, showing him exactly that her eyes weren't, in fact, blue.

Ginny's eyes were hazel.

Harry just smiled sheepishly.

Ginny regarded him for a second until she must have notice the flush on his cheeks and the light dusting of snowflakes on his hair and clothes.

"You've been out flying again, haven't you?" She asked.

"Yes," Harry admitted, looking chagrin.

Ginny let out a soft chuckle. His wife knew him too well.

"You always bring me forget-me-nots every time you came after your flying, Harry. So I know you've been out, even when I warn you not to. How was the visibility today?"

"You were right about the visibility, Ginny. No need to worry though." Harry assured her.

Despite the poor visibility, flying up to see the breathtaking view of his home was worth it. Harry wanted to see the grey and white sprawl of it above the clouds where he could feel the kiss of the cold wind brushing against his cheeks.

His home looked beautiful during Winter.

* * *

_In the darkness, he floated….Dead to the world, until a sense of awareness trickled into him._

_He heard someone speaking to him, with a voice so cold like the winter, and deep like the dark abyss that kept him._

_"As the one to have successfully joined the three hollows…and the one who had destroyed the wand that holds the power to control me. I will give you one chance at life. One chance to live in another World...Now, be reborn… Harry Potter."_

_He heard the voice said, before he was engulfed in a warm, white light._

* * *

**Winterfell**

**266 AC**

"My Lord,"

Rickard Stark turned around and stopped pacing. His eyes settled on the Maester standing at the open doorway of the birthing chamber.

The worry must have been plain on Rickard's face for Maester Walys assured him, "Everything went well, my Lord. You and your wife have been blessed with a beautiful daughter."

At the old man's words, Rickard hurriedly strode towards the door while asking, "How are they?"

"They are both fine, my Lord. However, I had to give Lady Lyarra the milk of the poppy for the pain."

Rickard halted beside the Maester, putting a hand on the man's shoulder and said to him.

"Thank you, Maester Walys. Thank you for ensuring that my wife and daughter are well taken care of."

"It's always been an honor to serve your House, my Lord."

.

Rickard Stark sat carefully on the bed beside his wife. He gently brushed a strand of hair from Lyarra's forehead. She looked tired, with perspiration still dotting her brows, but otherwise, his wife appeared to be happy, gazing down on the babe she was currently nursing at her breast.

"What shall we name her?" He whispered, looking at his newborn daughter.

Rickard couldn't see much of his daughter's face, but he could see the soft dark brown hair on the babe's head; the same hair color as Lyarra's.

"Lyanna..." Lyarra murmured, "Lyanna Stark."

"Lyanna Stark," He repeated, "A fitting name for a daughter, who I believe, will take most of her looks from her beautiful mother. Beautiful and enduring as the rose that blooms in Winter."

Lyarra laughed softly and said, "While she may have my looks, though I believe our daughter will surely have your temperament, dear husband. Honorable and stubborn to a fault."

Rickard smiled lovingly at his wife and gave Lyarra a peck on the cheek.

"Lyanna is perfect."

**.**

Rickard and Lyarra Stark soon discovered that Lyanna was no ordinary child. Their daughter seemed to develop much faster than Brandon and Ned at her age. She could crawl and sit up not even four months after she was born, and could walk and stand without assistance a month after.

By the time ten moons had passed, Lyanna could run, climb the stairs, speak a few words and follow simple instruction.

Her progress was astonishing. Lyanna learned fast at the first or second attempt.

Maester Walys remarked that the House Stark was blessed with an intelligent progeny. The old man had even gone on to say that Lyanna's development was similar to that of Prince Rhaegar, who had started reading scrolls and tomes not even past his sixth name day. Prince Rhaegar had clearly impressed the Maesters with his wits.

Lyanna's quick development no longer seemed to look so unusual after that.

.

**268 AC**

Lyarra started teaching Lyanna her letters and only allowing Brandon and Ned to play with their little sister when Lyanna lost interest in her lessons. The two-year-old girl equally learned from her brothers as Lyanna learned from her.

And at night, Old Nan would tell Lyanna bedtime stories of the North.

The tales of Brandon the Builder, the Night's King and the Others were Lyanna's favorite most of all.

Lyanna was not so easily scared like most other children.

.

Both Brandon and Ned doted on Lyanna, nearly spoiling her with their attention, and Lyanna, in turn adored them.

If Lyanna wasn't toddling after her older brothers, Lyarra sometimes saw her daughter following Old Nan's great-grandson, Wylis - the stableboy - who was said to have giant's blood.

The old woman must have introduced the boy to Lyanna at some point.

At around seven years old, Wylis nearly towered any full grown man, and Lyanna appeared to have taken a genuine interest on the gentle lad, calling him, "Hagger," every time her daughter saw the boy.

The boy had no heart to correct Lyanna of course, as others would have want to do, even until the day Lyanna started calling him by a different name.

"Hagrid."

Even then, Wylis - the gentle giant - would simply smile and welcome Lyanna as he always did when she came to see the horses.

.

But it was Ned who had been the one to tell Lyanna to stop calling Wylis by a false name as it would offend the tall boy.

"Call him by his true name, Lyanna. He is your friend. You should remember his given name," her brother had gently reprimanded her and Lyanna had done so since then.

* * *

**271 AC**

On her fifth name day, Lyanna was given a pony.

She was beyond delighted as she had been wanting to ride a horse of her own. She had learned how to put on the saddle by observing Wylis who didn't mind teaching her.

Now, she had a pony to ride, though it would be sometime for her to put the saddle on her own pony as it was far too heavy for her to carry still.

And in one day, Lyanna learned how to ride.

She took to it like she was born on the saddle.

When her older brother, Brandon, had asked what she was going to name her pony, Lyanna had answered without hesitation: "Buckbeak."

Brandon had laughed at the name she had chosen.

"You always come up with such odd names, Lyanna. Why ever did you choose this one?" Her brother had asked in complete puzzlement.

"Because – because Buckbeak is a half-horse and half-eagle and I want my pony to be one. I want to fly in the sky and see Winterfell from above, or ride in the wolfswood and even go beyond the Wall. I want a mount that can do both and take me anywhere in all the far reaches of the world as I please," Lyanna had said, allowing her childish fancy to run amok as she had explained the things she saw in her mind, of words that sometimes floated inside her head, seemingly out of nowhere; or shadowy glimpses of things and flashes of knowledge that she knew she should remember.

Even if Lyanna could manage to arrange the pieces together, more and more came to her, turning the context of them into complete disarray and became much harder for Lyanna to understand.

"You need a Dragon, Lyanna." Brandon had said to her, "Not a pony for you to ride and travel the way you wanted to. But considering all Dragons are dead, well… perhaps Buckbeak will do for you, though you won't be able to go farther than the wolfswood."

"They are not dead." Lyanna had protested then.

"What aren't dead?"

"The Dragons." She had frowned. "You said the Dragons are dead."

"They are dead, had been since more than a hundred years." Brandon had argued back.

"No, they aren't. They are still alive. The Targaryens are the blood of the Dragons, are they not?"

"Yes, but –"

"Then, the Dragons are still alive, Brandon, for I believe they will only cease to exist when the lines from of old Valyria are completely gone from this world."

.

It became a habit for Lyanna to ride out in the glade early in the mornings, and Wylis was always there to assist her without fail, holding the reins for her while she climbed up her horse.

Lyanna made certain to express her gratitude every time he helped her.

"Thank you, Wylis." She would always tell her friend and he would smile and say, "Your welcome, m'lady."

And then, she would go riding off through the gates and out of Winterfell with the company of either her older brothers or father

.

The cold wind was a biting caress against her skin, making Lyanna's face flush red as she led her horse into a fast gallop across the glade. Her long black hair fluttering behind her in gentle waves with the wind making gnarl tangles out of it.

Immersing herself to the joy of riding, she turned her eyes skywards, towards the thick brumous clouds she could see hanging far, far above her.

And suddenly, Lyanna was struck by an overwhelming need to fly, a terrible and deep longing to hover among the clouds while she gazed upon the world with no worries and simply forget the terrible nightmares that plague him at -

"Lyanna! Watch where you are going, young lady!"

Lyanna's eyes snapped open when she heard her father called out a warning from behind her. Instantly, she realized that she was no longer holding the reins. She had allowed herself to be swept by her imagination that she had stretch both of her arms on either side of her like she was, indeed, flying. With her face upturned towards the skies and with her eyes closed, she had savored the rush of wind against her face that she didn't see the direction where Buckbeak had taken.

If her father hadn't called out to warn her, she would have fallen off her horse as Buckbeak was galloping down a steep slope.

Hastily, Lyanna took the reins and braced herself on her saddle.

She prodded Buckbeak with her knees to slow down to a canter and change direction.

Lyanna led her horse up to where she could see a smattering of green amidst grey and white. And as she draw near towards it, Lyanna finally saw the flowers.

Something niggled at the back of her mind at the sight of them.

Lyanna frowned.

Pulling Buckbeak to an abrupt halt, Lyanna jumped from the horse and walked towards the patch of green.

Soon enough, Lyanna was crouching low and perusing the bouquet of flowers in her hand. Her brows were knitted into a deep frown as she inspected the flower which had five petals and a yellow ring at the center.

It looked familiar to her.

But the color was wrong.

It wasn't blue, but white.

Lyanna sensed that she was standing close at the edge of a new discovery, a mystery that she needed to solve, a hidden knowledge that was waiting for her to unravel.

She had only to leap over the precipice and see what awaited her in the icy cold abyss.

.

"What are you looking for, Lyanna?"

Lyanna looked up towards her Lord father who had climbed off his horse to stand beside her crouched form.

"I'm looking for a flower father." She responded.

She had been so distracted in leading her horse from one place to the other around the glade - and beyond - that she hadn't realize that her Lord father was still following her.

Her father considered her for a short moment before asking, "What might it look like?"

"It's blue and small, around this size," she curled her index finger towards her thumb to show him the exact size, "- and with a yellow circle in the middle." She described, looking at her father with the hope that he knew what she was talking about.

"I don't believe I've seen those kind of flowers in the North, child." Her father answered gently.

Her hope was instantly crushed. For reason unknown to her, finding the flower was very important.

It was vital that she did or she would lose something that she couldn't even remember of possessing.

"It must be here. I swear I've seen it somewhere here before. It must be somewhere here." She said, her voice breaking.

She swallowed through the tightness in her throat as her grey eyes searched the glade for other possible areas that she had missed. The North had a great stretch of land, and even if it takes years to search for it, Lyanna would do so.

Something was tagging at her to remember.

"Do you, by any chance, know the name of the flower, Lyanna?" Her father inquired, gently placing a hand on Lyanna's shoulder to make her look at him.

She did and stared at her father, feeling the burning beneath her lids that warned her of the tears that was about to spill.

"I don't know. I don't know. I forgot, but it's a blue flower, father. Help me find it. I need to find it. I need to. This is very important to me. I have to remember. I have to -" She broke off, rubbing her eyes to dash away the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

Her behavior must have alarm her father as she saw his worried expression, and Lyanna wanted to cry when the feeling of helplessness came over her, of not remembering something which she should never have forgotten.

.

"Here, Lyanna." Her father handed her a flower, which she assumed he must have taken from the glass garden.

Lyanna stared at the blue rose, a frown knitting her brows. She raised her eyes back to her father in a silent question.

"Yesterday… as I watched you gallop about in the glade with no regards to your direction, and in search for a flower that I have never heard or seen of, you have given me reason to worry, Lyanna," her father explained.

Lyanna lowered her head in shame, holding the stem of the rose tightly between her fingers.

There was moment of silence as she could sense her Lord father's gaze.

Her father must have taken pity on her as Lyanna heard him speaking softly this time.

"We don't have the kind of flower you were looking for, child. There's only one blue flower that grows in the North."

Lyanna stared at the pale blue rose in her hand. It was beautiful but -

"It's called the winter rose."

She didn't say anything.

"The winter rose symbolizes faithfulness and enduring love." He informed her and waited for her to react.

For awhile, Lyanna stared at the rose before she finally answered, "Thank you, father."

In response, she saw her father nodding his head and there after made her promise.

"Promise me, Lyanna, that you won't go looking for the flower which I believe you must have only seen in your dreams or imagine it. Don't give me, or your Lady Mother, a reason to worry, Lyanna. The winter rose if far better. It is known for its capacity to survive the longest and harshest of winter. Keep it, and perhaps one day, you may grow to love the the rose just like your mother. It is your mother's favorite flower after all."

With her face downcast, Lyanna said solemnly.

"I promise father. The winter rose is beautiful...and I believe it shall become my favorite flower as well."

Once her father had left her rooms, Lyanna sat there staring at nothing, still holding the rose between her fingers.

She felt she had lost something, but in her search, she found something else instead.

Something new and beautiful.

Something she would grow to love in time.

* * *

**272 AC**

Lyanna's mother was with child.

Maester Walys had informed the family that her mother was in a very delicate condition and must remain bedridden.

"Will you take care of the flowers in the glass garden, Lyanna?" her mother had asked when Lyanna came to visit her.

"Yes, mother," had been her sad response.

Thereafter, Lyanna took care of the flowers like her mother often loved to do.

.

Lyanna and her father were heading back after their morning ride in the glade when she told him, "Father, may we drop by the glass garden to get flowers for mother?"

"Of course, Lyanna. I'm sure your mother will be happy to see them."

Later, she entered her mother's bedchamber with her hands behind her back.

"Mother, I have something for you!" Lyanna said brightly.

"What is it dear?" her mother asked while she propped herself amongst the pillows and beckoned for Lyanna to come closer.

Lyanna walked swiftly towards her.

"A rose." She said with a smile, showing her mother the thing she had been hiding behind her.

"For the blue of your eyes mother." Lyanna said in jest, looking into her mother's dark blue eyes.

"Thank you, Lyanna." Her Lady mother murmured, taking the winter rose from Lyanna's hand.

"The winter rose has always been my favorite… as you are, my dear charming daughter."

There was a soft smile on her mother's lips when she said this and Lyanna felt quite happy for putting it there.

.

Her little brother, Benjen, was born.

However, her mother remained ill and had never left her rooms ever since.

Every time Lyanna came back from her morning rides, she made certain to drop by in the glass garden and pick a winter rose for her mother.

.

No more than a moon turns after, Lyanna's mother died.

And like everyone did when their love ones were gone, they all grieved.

"Lyanna is always in the glass garden," Ned remarked to Brandon one day.

For his part, Brandon's face fell and said to his younger brother morosely, "It's her own way of grieving, Ned. Let her be. Our Lady mother had always love those flowers. Lyanna must have felt the need to keep and take care of them in memory of her."

**.**

And so, as the years passed by, Lyanna Stark had finally grown to love the blue winter rose.

* * *

**273 AC**

Lyanna was seven when she started having strange dreams.

_The place was beyond repair, with collapsed walls, uneven blackened ground - as if the placed had been set alight by hellfire – while some areas were flooded with stagnant, murky water._

_It was a desolate place, **a frightening place,**  when she sensed the ghost that lingered there, shades of the dead trying to grab for her while she made her escape from what she thought was hell._

_She ran and ran through the empty halls of the huge fortress. The sensed of doom licking at her heels. The walls closing in around her until it resembled a darkened tunnel._

_Some **thing**  was watching her. She could feel its powerful gaze pressing on her back, causing the small hairs on her nape to stand on end. There was ice creeping up her spine like cold fingers waiting for her to make the terrible mistake of looking back._

_And if she did, the thing that waited in the dark would drag her down, down, down below the earth, where the sun didn't shine to shove her amongst the dead._

_Her lungs and legs were starting to burn, she ignored it as best she could and kept on running. There was a permanent scream lodge in her throat when she could no longer ignore the terror taking root in her mind. It grew still like a writhing darkness stretch out to trap her there.  
_

_When she thought there was no end to the tunnel, and as she began to despair, that was when she heard it._

_The most beautiful sound she had ever heard._

_A song._

_It was a haunting song telling her to, **'come, follow me, and never look back.'**_

_And she did._

_Hope bloomed within her and she ran faster, following the sound she could hear in the distance.  
_

_The coldness that had crept up her spine receded with every step she took towards the sound. The music and the person's voice was calling for her and she followed it all the way out of the darkness._

_When she finally rounded the corner and stepped out into the light, her steps faltered, nearly tripping over when her eyes fell upon a person leaning and sitting at the foot of the tree._

_Sunlight caught the silver of his hair, his face was sunkissed-gold, and his sad eyes were the color of crushed violets beneath white-gold lashes. The lines of his face were perfectly symmetrical. He had a thin long nose, high cheekbones, a strong jawline and finely-molded mouth. But there was grief hanging over him like an ominous thunder cloud. She could feel it in his music as the man sung and pluck the strings of his silver harp._

_The man's voice was a rich tenor, dulcet yet full of velvet tones. Though she knew he did not need words to tag at her heartstrings as evocatively and tenderly as the man tagged at his harp, making her remember vaguely of someone she knew before._

_She stared, her throat constricted when a sense of familiarity swept through her.  
_

_How long she had stood there staring and listening to him, she did not know. It was only when she felt the tears rolling down her cheeks that she realized that she was crying._

_Confused and frustrated, she immediately wiped the tears away._

_There it was again, the feeling of almost, **almost**  close to discovering a missing piece of her that she knew she must reclaim. Yet it remained out of reach, taunting her._

_It made her angry._

_Clenching her hands, she decided to turn her attention on something else and try to compose herself._

_Looking around her, she discovered that she was in an orchard, or what resembled of it, as everything was almost overtaken by roots and vines and other overgrown plants. And like the other places she had past in a blur, the walls and ground were scorched by fire, marked by a tragedy she knew not when and how it happened._

_Then, her eyes went back to the man again who hadn't even glance in her direction._

_She didn't want to interrupt, but –_

" _Excuse me," she said hesitantly, walking slowly forward._

_The man didn't look up at the sound of her voice and simply kept playing his harp, although he was no longer singing._

_Her brows knitted, silently wondering if the man was deaf or he was simply ignoring her on purpose._

_She supposed it must be the latter, seeing that she was just a child of seven, he must find her presence a nuisance._

_But she needed to know where she was. She was still lost and didn't know what was going on and the man was the only person she could see in the ruins._

" _Excuse me, Ser." She said loudly, halting in front of him. "I think I might be lost…"_

_Once more, he didn't show any signs that he heard her as his fingers never did falter from thrumming the strings in his harp._

_Her frowned deepened._

" _Can you hear me?" She asked, waiting and hoping for him to respond._

_But like before, he didn't. The man didn't seem to know that she even existed, much less hear her._

" _You can't see me, can you?…" she realized at last, waving a hand in front of the man's face, who didn't so much as blink._

 ** _This must be a dream_  ** _, she thought faintly. **I must be in a dream.**_

_She stood there contemplating what to do next about her situation. If this was a dream, then all she had to do was wake up and she would be out of that place. Although, she didn't know when would that be._

_Her eyes returned to the man who now had a faraway look gracing his beautiful features, the corners of his mouth pulled down._

_Curious, she knelt and scrutinized him, indulging herself while she had the time._

_For a moment, she noted how long his pale lashes were and how his eyes weren't pure indigo at all, but she could see splashes of cobalt and emerald in the sea of violet too, while his irises were ringed with amber._

_At this close, she began to suspect that the man was a Targaryen. No one with hair that silver-white and eyes in royal purple could be a member of any other house._

" _Who are you?" she murmured, looking him straight in the eyes._

_The sound of the harp came to an abrupt halt and she nearly toppled over in her haste to get away, when the Targaryen suddenly stood up. His pale brows furrowed while he looked around the ruins, his body coiled tight with tension._

**_Did he hear me?_ ** _She thought in alarm, skittering away, but froze when the man looked in her direction._

_For five heart-thumping seconds, she stopped breathing. She stood there unmoving on the spot. However, as soon as the man's eyes strayed away from her and she could finally let out a sigh of relief.  
_

_When the man had stopped looking so spooked, he sat back down and began to play his harp, though_ _his eyes still fleeted warily around.  
_

_Thereafter, she decided to keep a safe distance away while she watched him make a song, fascinated by the range of emotions she could see playing on his face, no matter how minuscule they were, like the slight dip on the corner of his mouth belied his displeasure, or the way he tilted his head to the side in deep thought.  
_

_Later, when the man finally finished._

_She heard him named his song._

_There was a small, secretive smile forming on his lips when he said it._

.

Lyanna was in the glass garden and watering the flowers when someone asked, "May I ask the name of the song, m'lady?"

"Song? What song?" She said, blinking at the woman she had seen tending to the vegetables in the other part of the garden.

"The one you were humming, m'lady."

She hadn't even realized that she had been humming.

"Oh, I – I don't know…" Lyanna put the bucket of water on the ground, wiped the dirt off her hands and straightened up.

"I supposed… it's called the  _Ghost of Summerhall_?" The name came to her so abruptly that Lyanna frowned, surprised once more at her mind's ability to conjure up names out of thin air like magic.

"I've never heard that song before. Where ever did you hear it, m'lady?"

She stared at the woman for a moment before answering, "I…can't really recall..."

.

_"Tell me who you are, good Ser, and this will not end in-"_

_She didn't let him finish his sentence, and the sound of her blade sang yet again as she lunged forward. The sword was too heavy and big for her. However, she compensated by widening her stance and keeping her movements swift, but precise throughout the entire fight. Only resting when needed, and to assess her opponent's movements._

_The tall man had been using a short sword to parry her attacks. Fortunately, it wasn't made of Valyrian steel, or it would have cut the sword - that she had borrowed from the armory - like it was made of paper._

_Her opponent parried her outward slash. Their swords met in a clash of steel against steel, but hers was already a bit dulled and rusted, whereas the man's short sword was beautifully crafted; it caught the light of the moon as sparks flew between their blades._

_Her arms shook, grunting as she strained to keep her sword raised against her opponent's fine blade. At the same time, her foot inched forward, ready to kick the man's knee when his attention was riveted towards the sight of their scraping swords._

**_SCREEEECH-SCREEECH_ ** _came the sharp, grating noise of their weapons while they tried to overpower each other **.** Her foot was just short from kicking the man when, without warning, she was shoved back. HARD. As if the man knew what she was about to do._

_She stumbled. The too-large armor that she wore, clanking loudly._

_"I don't want to fight you. I merely wanted to know who you are…" the man said, advancing on her. His voice now tinged with impatience. His deep indigo eyes glinted with a bit of fire in them._

_After she had regained her balance, she carefully stepped to the side and avoided getting cornered against the tree that stood behind her. That would be foolish of her if she allowed her adversary to herd her in that direction._

_"Who are you?" The man repeated, halting just five meters away, violet eyes that she had often seen with kindness in them, were narrowed at the moment._

_"Why don't you try to knock my helm off, and find out… **princeling**_   **,**   _" the voice that came out from beneath her helm was loud, booming and with a strong brogue; a man's voice that she had been using to disguise her identity._

_"And if I cut off your head by accident?" The handsome man countered, his indigo eyes keeping her in his line of sight, when she began to circle around him._

_"For which, I'm sure, the King will be too happy to hear once you go back and report to him.." She remarked._

_The prince fell silent._

_"Well then, let us not waste any more time with unnecessary talks, when the night is still young and it can use a little bit of song from our swords. Wouldn't you agree, **your highness**_   **?"**   _she mocked in the same man's voice._

_Not waiting for his reply, she charged, closing the distance between them with her stormy grey eyes blazing beneath her visor._

_But the prince was already ready for her._

_Indigo eyes met grey, right before their swords clashed once more._

_Somewhere in the distance, she heard a wolf howled._

.

As the sun reached its zenith in the skies, Lyanna Stark woke up with a sense of purpose.

Lyanna wanted to become a Knight.

However, for her to become one, she must first learn how to wield a sword.

* * *

 

****

* * *

  **Chapter 3: I Open at the Close**

* * *

**Æ**

_"A song, little dragon, and I'll tell you more of the truth of what lay beneath the shadows of the great tragedy."_

_"But I have yet to learn how to play an instrument..."_

_"With delicate fingers such as yours, a harp will do for you. Learn to play it and you may return here, and I will teach you the songs of trees and rivers and stones, as I will tell you more of your prophecies."_

* * *

It had been more than a week since Lyanna had woken up feeling invigorated – no, _purposeful_  when something managed to slip past her nebulous dreams.

After the death of her Lady mother, Lyanna had spent her time mourning for more than a year, brooding constantly, dwelling on the past and falling into an ambedo. Her mind had been full of regrets then and she had felt an explicable desire to somehow turn back time and save her mother from certain death.

It was only through a susurrus words of 'Knight' and 'Tree' when her tranced-like state was broken; a splash of icy clarity that shock her into waking up. Whatever she had dreamt the night a week ago must be something very important and urgent to change her, and for Lyanna to feel that she must do something better with her time than succumb to moments of depression.

And for this reason, Lyanna was in the solar with her father again. This would be the third time she came to ask her father with the same request.

For the master-at-arms to teach her the ways with the sword.

Lyanna had tried to pick the right moment when her father was in a better mood, hoping for her father to finally accept, but it was rare these days to see her Lord father even come close to being happy.

When her Lady mother had died, it affected her father more than she could and her brothers imagined. There were more grey streaks on Lord Rickard Stark's hair than there were before while the frown on her father's face had become permanently etched.

With her mother gone, Lyanna had seen her father seek Maester Waly's for counsel, where her mother usually held the position previously. Her father had always preferred to listen to her Lady mother's counsel than anyone else, and only consulting Maester Walys when in need of a second opinion.

However, the death of her Lady mother had changed everything.

Lord Rickard Stark had been a strict father before, but now Lyanna's father had become as immovable as the Wall.

Still, she held to the hope that her father would reconsider her request.

"Please, father. Allow Master Cassel to train me how to fight with a sword," Lyanna implored, her steel-grey eyes beseeching. "Let me train alongside Ned and Brandon. Both have already agreed that they will help me-"

"How many times do I have to tell you Lyanna that I will not allow it." Her father interrupted, casting Lyanna a stern look with his lips pressed into a tight line.

She didn't balk beneath the frigid gaze that her father levelled at her, though the whiteness of her knuckles as she clenched her hands belied the growing trepidation of what she knew would be her father's rejection.

"Fighting are for men, and you are not a man, Lyanna." Her father told her in a sharp tone. "You are a Lady of the House Stark. My one and only daughter. One day you will have a husband of your own, and a household to run, and you can't do that with a sword strapped at your hip. I won't allow my only daughter to embarrass me in front of my banner men and other Lords and Ladies of the realm. My decision is final Lyanna. You are not to learn how to fight with a sword."

She opened her mouth to protest, but her father spoke before she could, leveling her with an icy stare that cut through her as sharply as the Valyrian sword Ice hanging atop the mantel.

"I believe it's time that you are taught the womanly arts and how to become a proper lady," her Lord father informed her all of a sudden in a voice that brook no argument.

Instantly, Lyanna grimaced.

This wasn't something she planned of discussing with her father that very day. She had rather hope to delay the inevitable talk about her becoming a 'proper lady', or of learning the womanly arts.

Lyanna had never felt comfortable with her skin to begin with, which had always been an odd feeling. She itched to tear her skin apart into bloody ribbons, and if she did, mayhap she'll find another person hiding underneath. The iron and the steel. The true her who had never stopped fighting.

She knew that becoming a Lady was not her true calling. No, her true calling lay with the shield and armor and sword. Not simpering beneath fans and wearing dresses and improving her needlework. Her true calling was to defend the weak and protect the realms of men. That was what Lyanna truly believed in.

But to protect the realm from what? She did not know yet, but she knew deep within her that Lyanna was born to become a Knight and nothing else.

Lyanna's dreamed proved that.

Yet her father had other plans for her, it seemed. She had hoped her Lord father had forgotten that she was even a girl after she had purposely taken to wearing her older brother's clothes since she was but five, clothes which her brothers had grown out of. She had worn them instead of the dresses that her Lady mother had the castle's seamstress made for her.

But now, there was no escaping her fate. Lyanna must do the things as expected of her.

She sighed.

"Those are the only skills that I require for you to learn," her father was saying and Lyanna listened to him. "I do plan to find you a suitable husband for you to marry once you become of age, Lyanna. Hence, it is with the utmost importance that you begin your lessons. Am I clear on this, dear daughter?"

She met her father's stare, and after a moment, Lyanna responded gloomily, "Yes, father."

"I will send Old Nan to start teaching you by the morrow. For now, you may do anything you want with your time. However, once your lesson begins, I expect you to attend them. As for your brothers, I have already forbidden them to teach you sword fighting themselves. You need not badger them further as they will know what shall befall on them if they go against my expressed wishes."

Her father stared pointedly at her while Lyanna merely kept silent and waited to be dismiss.

After a while, her Lord father finally said to her, waving his hand. "Now, off with you."

And with a stiff curtsy, Lyanna left her father's solar, though not completely disheartened at her father's decision.

It only made Lyanna more determined to learn.

If her father did not allow Martyn Cassel – the current master-at-arms - to teach her, then Lyanna must learn by herself.

Her Lord father might have forbidden both her brothers to teach her, but there were other ways to train herself.

Through observation, practice, and of course, through reading.

Moreover, her father hadn't specifically ordered Lyanna to stop going near the training yard, so it meant she would still be able to freely watch her brothers train and observe their morning drills.

As for practicing, Lyanna had only to look for an ideal place to practice and try her best not to get caught.

While these plans ran through her mind, Lyanna didn't feel nervous in the least. In fact, she was unnervingly calm.

Something told her that this wasn't exactly the first time that she had gone against the rules.

* * *

**Æ**

" _A song from you for each whispers I hear from the trees, and with each for you to ponder over while you chase your dreams of dragons."_

* * *

"Do not be angry with your father for sending you to me, child." Old Nan told her by next morn as Lyanna sat there for her first lesson of 'needlework' that she was required to learn.

To catch her interest, the woman started her lesson by suggesting to Lyanna that she drew a sketch first of what Lyanna wanted to make for her first embroidery.

Looking quite skeptical, Lyanna had drawn a rough sketch of a small ball with golden wings. It had been the first thing that flew into her mind and immediately sensed a deeper connection to it.

It was symbol for something that she felt associated with clear blue skies, swift winds, and sweet freedom.

Old Nan found it such an odd thing whereas Lyanna found it to be quite exciting when she could imagine the golden ball fleeting through the air for her to catch and follow.

After looking at the sketch, Lyanna had thrown herself at the task of learning embroidery with an enthusiasm that amused the old woman.

Lyanna wanted to bring the picture to life with both thread and needle. So she had been diligent and meticulous with the details as she did not want to make a mistake when she began working on her embroidery.

The process was slow going but she knew the finished product was well-worth it.

She planned to name it the  _golden snitch_  with the words written at the center of the ball,  _'I open at the close.'_

Lyanna didn't know what it meant, but it held significance to her somehow.

"Your Lord father is only looking out for your future, child." She heard the other woman said while Lyanna was inserting the needle to form the first line of feather, to prepare it for flight and be free from the confines of a mere fabric.

"He would want to secure a fine match for you someday." Old Nan explained to her. "It is what expected of you as the only daughter of the Warden of the North. This is a duty that you must come to understand, m'lady. Yours is as important as your brothers, who will become banner men and Lords of the North. Yours is to secure alliance to other great Houses which will become beneficial to your family. And for that, you must learn everything you can in regards to managing a household, entertaining guests and other things a Lady must know."

"But I do not want to marry." She responded softly, pausing in her embroidery to look at the woman sitting across from her. "Well, I do…but I don't think I want to marry anyone who I don't love."

"Oh, child." Old Nan said, "Marrying for love is a rare thing for Lords and Ladies. Only a few fortunate nobles get to choose who they want to marry. Highborn ladies, such as yourself, marry out of duty than love. The love only comes after, if you are one of the lucky few to find such a thing in your match."

Lyanna watched as a sad smile graced the woman's lips.

"However, this is only the first day of our lessons. I would not have you feel distraught with talks of marriage. Let us set aside the matter for another time when you are older." Old Nan told her and picked her needle to resume her embroidery.

Lyanna followed suit and took up her own work, slowly lining her thread to the third line of the wing.

"You have much to learn yet." The woman continued, "Take needlework for instance. What do you think of the task, m'lady?"

After a moment of contemplation, Lyanna answered, "Well, it will make for an interesting hobby, if one is not concern with their fingers getting stab oft by a needle."

She looked at her fingers then, where she had accidentally stabbed her needle unto the tender flesh countless times as she tried to attempt in following the pattern of the golden snitch. The speckle of blood on her embroidery was not a good sight to see, yet it couldn't be help. This was Lyanna's first try on her 'needlework' after all.

However, after considering it, Lyanna didn't mind bloodying her fingers as it would mean developing calluses on her fingertips, and a toughened skin could result to a firmer hold. It would become useful when gripping a weapon.

Lyanna's hand twitched, imagining a stick in her hand instead of a sword, which was simply bizarre.

What was the use of a wooden stick?

Old Nan shot her an amused look at her answer.

"Ah, yes, an interesting hobby for creating pretty things. But that is where you are mistaken, m'lady. Needlework is not only a hobby, nor it is about creating art through thread, pouring love upon the task at hand, and mastering your patience... No, needlework is more than that..."

Old Nan paused a moment for effect while Lyanna waited for her to continue.

"Needlework can save lives, m'lady," the woman stared at her. "It can mean life or death."

She met the woman's stare and asked, "How can it save lives?"

The woman smiled then, her eyes twinkling.

Lyanna was startled by the sight of it, something about the twinkle in Old Nan's eyes reminded Lyanna of someone she knew.

"Listen good and well, Lady Lyanna, for there's a lesson to be learn from a story that I'm about to tell you, about a man who brave the bitter cold to hunt a monster with seven heads."

Lyanna carefully set her embroidery down, giving the other woman her full attention.

"One day, in the island called Lorath, in a cave by the sea, there lived an evil and powerful man named Herpo – " her mentor began and Lyanna hanged unto every word Old Nan uttered.

And so it began, Lyanna's journey to learn and arm herself with knowledge in more ways than one.

* * *

**Æ**

_"Will you play me the song you made for me, dragon prince? My Jenny's song..."_

* * *

The day went quickly and better than Lyanna had expected, considering the fact that she hadn't been looking forward to her needlework lesson with Old Nan. Yet Old Nan had made her lesson more than what it seemed. The woman made it more interesting as she taught Lyanna the power of kindness and the art of subtlety.

Lyanna's perception about the womanly arts have completely changed. After she listened to Old Nan's tales that held a morale lesson each.

The first one was about a hero who had slain a seven-headed beasts and save his town, using the scales and pelts from the dead monster which he had sewn together for protection against the deep ones.

However, not all the people from the town believed the Hero and accused him to be a liar. They rejected the hero's aid, his magical pelts and scales that he had brought.

And so when the deep ones came, those same people were taken to the sea along with the maze they had built. The fault did not lay in the Hero as he had done what he could to warn and prepare his people for what was to come. The fault lay on the people who did not believe him and who had not taken his kindness well.

" _Always remember that there are still things to be learn from even the simplest and mundane of task, Lady Lyanna."_ Old Nan had told her once she was done telling the tale.

Thereafter, Lyanna took her lesson seriously and made certain to learn everything she could from the woman.

Lyanna would honed each of these skills while always thinking how to apply this knowledge in the future. Her needlework: sewing, knitting, stitching, and such, could be of use to her if she obtained a deep injury. Lyanna could stitch any wounds as deftly and diligently as she could stitch the Stark sigil in her cloak or repair ruin clothing.

Needlework would also improve the dexterity of her fingers. It also enhanced her capacity to focus on the task at hand, her concentration and patience, and her eyesight to capture the details,but most certainly her eye-hand coordination, and to help her remember too. Meanwhile, cultivating her creativity was a mental exercise to bring about new ideas, new perspectives to find a solution, to see the entire picture of a far greater puzzle, to become resourceful, to have more room for progress and innovation, and lastly, not to become too predictable

Creativity could go a long ways of saving lives and ending wars swiftly.

Creativity could be used in  _Strategy._

As its root, at its core, the womanly arts could be, in so many ways, be made use for warfare, but wielded and mastered by the fairer sex.

And by the time she realized it, it had been noon and Old Nan had to end her lesson.

The sands on the hour glass had run so quickly and it was night before Lyanna knew it. She had learned new things from Old Nan that day, who told her yet another story of the Last Hero that night and left her room once the woman was done, telling Lyanna that she would see her by the morrow for another tale about the wood witch weaver.

Thereafter, Lyanna dreamt of a place full of mystery.

She dreamed of walking down in a place as big as the great hall of Winterfell, filled with rows upon rows of towering shelves that reach up to the high ceiling; shelves that contained hundreds of small, dusty, glass orbs.

There were orbs which glowed with an inner light while others were dark and dull. She saw candles that were set in brackets at intervals along the shelves. The flames burned blue and the room was very cold. Somewhere above her, she heard a draft of wind howling softly that sent a shiver racing down her spine.

Still, she walked.

This place held a certain mystery to Lyanna that she couldn't even begin to grasp. Yet somehow she knew she had been there before as her legs moved of their own accord, retracing a path that was familiar to her.

Lyanna past the shelf with a number 54 and continue walking down the aisle, passing shelves after shelves.  _57….60….67….75….89….94…._

She made a turn when she came upon a shelf with number 97 and headed down the row to stand in front of a particular orb; cold and dark like she had seen the other orbs, as if all the warmth and light had gone out from them.

Yet she knew this orb belonged to her.

She knew it in her heart and so Lyanna did not hesitate when she reached out to touch it. Her fingers barely grazed the smooth surface of the orb when it suddenly vanished, replaced by a face; a skinned face of  _stranger._

Lyanna choked back a startled scream, stumbling back and staring at the face of a man with a lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

Then, the lights around the vast room had gone bright. Lyanna looked up and discovered that the face in front of her wasn't the only one she could see. Her eyes grew wide with horror as she looked around the room, now bright with candles that lined the walls.

The shelves were gone and what Lyanna could see now were large marble pillars with hundreds upon hundreds of skinned faces of the dead hanging upon them.

"Who are you?" A voice said from behind her.

Lyanna whirled around, her heart on her throat and saw a man with longish red hair on one side and white on the other.

The man tilted his head to the side, staring down at her.

She stood there frozen, wondering who the person was, and if he could actually see her there.

Her thoughts must be plain on her face as Lyanna watched when a ghost of a smile slowly formed on the man's lips.

"A man can see, lovely girl…" the unknown man said with an accent.

Lyanna was shocked, "Do you really? Can you really see me?"

The man's smile widened.

"Yes, stranger. A man can see…the winged wolf and found himself curious."

She opened her mouth to say more, however, before she could even utter another word, the vision began to change.

Lyanna tried to stop it, but it was of no use.

"The man will search for the girl." She heard the man promised, his voice was already fading and the only thing she could see was his jade-green eyes.

"Valar Dohaeris, dark heart."

Once more, she was elsewhere.

This time, she was standing in front of a black storage space of sorts, built beneath - what Lyanna supposed - was black stairs leading up to nowhere, where the stairs abruptly ended at the thirteenth steps.

Looking around, she noticed that the storage place before her was the only thing Lyanna could see in the gathering darkness.

A storage space big enough to fit a child her age.

Lyanna sensed that there was nothing good inside it, only unpleasant things, things that were terrible and darker that needed to be contain.

Still, she also sensed a kind of pulsing power through the door, a door where she could finally see a symbol carved on the black stone.

There at the center, she scrutinized the vertical line within a circle and enclosed by a triangle.

It glowed an eerie blue and throbbed with power.

Coldness crept up her legs and Lyanna glanced down and noticed the tendril of icy mist and frost beneath the crack of the doorway and on the black marbled floor.

She frowned.

However, as Lyanna turned to look up and back towards the symbol in the door, she found herself in a different place once more and surrounded by hundreds of corpses with glowing blue eyes.

Lyanna woke up with a gasp at once, her heart drumming wildly against her chest, and sweat dotting her brows. She wiped the perspiration off from her forehead, breathing hard.

She briefly noted that her bed covers had fallen to the floor and she could now feel the icy, coldness creeping up her legs.

Lyanna pulled it back to her and covered herself.

There was prickling feeling at the back of her neck.

It felt like she was being watched.

She followed where the sensation came from and saw the cause.

There, at the window sill, a raven was perched and was looking at her, cocking its head in curiosity, but Lyanna could sense its wariness too.

It stared at her for a moment, its beady eyes intent upon her face. When it had taken one good look at her, it finally spread its wings and took flight.

She watched as its black wings blend into the night.

And if Lyanna had cared to look in the looking glass then, she would have seen how her eyes had glowed green.

Green as emeralds.

* * *

Lyanna had thought it unwise to begin her training with swords this early as she wanted to make her father firmly believed that she had given up on trying to learn it. It was for this reason Lyanna spent her time with Old Nan for the first two weeks, trying to finish her embroidery while she listened to the old woman.

"Now you know," Old Nan said after she was done telling Lyanna the tale of the woods witch weaver.

"Yes," Lyanna responded, mulling over the tale Old Nan had told her, of how the womanly arts could be of use with dealing people at court, if her father planned to send her to King's Landing one day.

"Good," Old Nan said, "Forging alliance is as important as a Knight arming himself with shield, armor and sword to protect himself, his kin, or the people he swore to protect. Even the common courtesies in addressing lords and ladies, bowing and the like, these are basic, yet vital things in building connections, allowing as many people into your confidence, and in turn, earning their trust. You must learn these things, m'lady, as a simple slight can be misconstrued for something insidious. It can fuel hostility, foster paranoia, and even start a war if you don't choose your words carefully or act accordingly. But the most important lesson that you must understand is that not all wars are won through armies and bloodshed, but it can be won through diplomacy and peace treaties, through letters and envoys to deliver messages for want of negotiations, and even marriage arrangement has its uses too."

Once the woman had explained all of these to her, Old Nan then reminded her.

"But Lady Lyanna…you mustn't always be gentle when face with an adversary. You must learn when it is the right time to fight too. For you are of winter, and when the time comes, when you are face with difficult decisions, you must embrace the ice in your heart and show your enemies the iron underneath."

"Yes, Old Nan." Lyanna told her and vowed to herself that she would use everything she learned to protect her family and the people she cared about.

.

"On the morrow, I will teach you sewing and stitching." The woman informed her the following week. "These are things that you may need more in the future. And once you have mastered it, you may even use these skills in sewing injuries. When done precisely - and of course, gently - the results will be to everyone's satisfaction that you may not even leave scars behind."

At the mention of a scar, Lyanna absentmindedly reached out to her forehead. In there, she felt a slight tingle on her left temple and frowned.

"Though you may have to ask Maester Walys for such lessons." Old Nan's voice broke through Lyanna's reverie. Still frowning, she slowly lowered her hand down from her forehead.

"The Maester has the materials for sewing skin and flesh together." The woman was saying and Lyanna forced herself to listen, ignoring the unexplained tingle in her forehead. "By using catgut to stitch wounds, you may find this knowledge useful in times of war - but let's pray that a war doesn't come to the North soon and hope the peace will remain for many more years to come. Still, one cannot be certain of what the morrow brings…and if war does come, and you plan to join your future husband's war campaigns as I know you will want to m'lady, you may become of use in the healing tents by tending to the wounded. In this, your future husband will have far less to complain about with regards to your presence in his camp."

"I would rather fight in his army than serve in the healing tents." Lyanna muttered to herself, imagining herself cleaning wounds and trying to soothe and assure those who were in so much agony from the injuries they suffered.

"I might be able to stitch wounds, but I don't think I have a talent for words." She stated wryly. "Injured men will suffer my presence if it came to that."

"Then, you must learn, m'lady. You will be surprise how using the right words can help the injured heal quickly, lift their spirits swiftly, and mayhap boost the army's morale. Words of comfort, assurances, or empathy, and even using tales and songs, can be as powerful as any healing salves and remedy potions - if not better. To empathize with the frightened, the weak and the injured can be as good as praying to the Old Gods to give them strength and courage to win the war, and hope for their return and swift recovery for those who are injured."

.

"Beyond the wall, the wildlings must put value in their clothes - of this I am certain. Clothes that are in complete disrepair can mean life or death in such a cold place beyond the wall. Hours exposed to the bitter cold can mean a frostbite, losing your limbs, hands and fingers for something as foolish as torn furs. Wildlings will have to constantly repair their clothes if they have the materials for such a task to keep themselves alive…" Old Nan paused to regard her solemnly the next day. "It is a cruel life out there, m'lady, this is what I believe. A life beyond the wall is a life bereft of any kind of luxury that the people may find in this side of the wall. We must consider ourselves fortunate to have been born south of the Wall, Lady Lyanna."

Lyanna had to agree. She couldn't imagine what must be like living beyond the wall, where every day was a struggle, every day was a short less of life, and every day the fear would only grow and could be felt more oft than the gnawing hunger.

Old Nan had told her about the Others and the thing that walked in the night. Lyanna couldn't imagine living a life being hunted, though she knew she had lived like that once, of being hunted and living in the wilderness. As to how it was even possible, Lyanna simply blamed it on her queer mind, mayhap fancying herself the Last Hero from the story Old Nan liked to tell her about.

She recalled that in the story the Last Hero had gone in search for the Children of the Forest and their magic, in the hope that they would help end the Long Night. In her mind, she knew they were two companions that came with her. They had been there from the beginning 'till the very end. Two of the Last Hero's most loyal friends who came to help him search for magical objects…

_There was a red sword too. I'm sure of it. Lightbringer. The sword had to be taken out from beneath the icy water where I nearly drowned…_

When she realized that her mind had wondered off again, Lyanna shook her head and scolded herself.

"We must learn not take everything for granted, Lady Lyanna." Old Nan was saying to her, gazing at her with a somber expression. "For one day, there are many things that we stand to lose. We must appreciate what we have now or we will come to regret not having them at all."

Thereafter, Lyanna didn't take everything for granted and made it her goal to learn anything she could from every person in Winterfell.

* * *

That night, she dreamed of weirdwood tree with one red eye, it's pale branches reaching out to her as if trying to speak. It was followed by a vision of slithering vipers and a flower basking under the heat of the morning sun. Then, she dreamed of a lioness with a spiked crown bathed in a green glow and sitting on a barbed throne, slick with blood. And somewhere at sea, she saw a creature with many arms drowning ships.

But it changed, and Lyanna dreamed of a woman in black armor, dark hair streaming behind her while she stared at battered shield in her hand. It was painted with a wierwood tree with a smiling red face. The paint was so thin and must have been painted in a hurry. Lyanna could still see the form of a black winged creature behind the tree, and the field divided bendwise of silver and gold beneath.

Thereafter, Lyanna watched as the woman threw the shield away from the tower, where it landed somewhere amongst the trees below, with leaves as crimson as blood.

Lyanna could not understand the reason why the woman had done it.

Suddenly, she heard the woman cursed out loud. The female warrior was looking down, as if she had seen someone.

When Lyanna followed her gaze, she saw two figures looking upwards towards the woman and standing beneath the canopy of the trees. One was wearing all black armor while the other was wearing all white. A perfect contrast to their manes of silver-white and midnight black hair. Like day and night, they were.

The woman whirled around to face her and Lyanna found herself staring at a face covered in mud.

A face that she knew too well... or she thought.

It was her own face she could see beneath the mud. Lyanna presumed the other had done so to conceal her identity completely.

Lyanna was stunned. She stood there unmoving even as the other woman donned her helm and tucked her braid at the back before bolting down the stairs of the tower. Her hasty vanishing act set out a cloud of bats flying into the darkening sky, where Lyanna could see the moon rising while the last rays of the sun painted the heavens in the kaleidoscope of red and lilac hues, between darkness and light, locking the land in twilight for a breath-taking moment.

A flutter of snow-white and black cloaks were the last things Lyanna saw below when the two men hurried to intercept the other her they had seen standing up from the scorched and broken tower.

And as swiftly as the wind, Lyanna's vision changed. Soon enough she was standing in front of the black door with the symbol at the center.

Lyanna stared at the door.

What awaited her on the other side Lyanna could only wonder. She could feel coldness trickling from the crack beneath the doorway.

Only then did she hear the faint whispers coming from the other side of it.

Curious, Lyanna reached out towards the doorknob. Her skin met metal so cold that it felt like she had been burned, but the pain was gone in an instant.

The ice had numbed it and Lyanna watched as it crawled up her hand and towards her wrist, turning her hand as white as a corpse.

She stared at her hand in complete detachment as if the hand didn't belong to her at all. Like it was a dead thing to her.

Slowly, Lyanna turned the doorknob and found it locked. She twisted it towards the other side but the door didn't open still.

Lyanna stood there quite lost.

In that moment, she heard the flutter of wings from behind her.

She glanced around and saw a black raven.

A raven with three eyes.

It was perched on an bronze knocker of another door, a bone-white door with a smiling face, but crying crimson blood.

The three-eyed-raven flapped its wings, looking at her with those three beady eyes.

"Strange child!" it cawed at her, "Strange! Strange! Strange!"

Absently, Lyanna removed her hand from the doorknob and turned fully to face the bird.

"Strange child!" the bird called out, "Here! Here!"

Lyanna observed it flapping its dark wing, flying and pecking at the bronze knocker.

"Here! Here!"

She began to walk towards the other door, realizing what the raven wanted for her to do. Lyanna reached out towards the bronze knocker.

No sooner than she touched the cool metal that she heard the voice coming from the weirdwood face in front of her.

"At last, we can speak."

Startled, she nearly let go of the bronze ring but the rasping voice said, "Do not be afraid, child. I will do you no harm."

"What are you?" Lyanna asked, peering at the face in the door and watched as it eyes swiveled to look at her, still weeping crimson sap.

"I am a greenseer, same as you…" the face said in a raspy voice, "I am here to guide you, to make you understand…and to help you fly. Do you not want to fly far, little wolf?"

_I do…I wanted to fly in the skies. But how can a wolf fly if it doesn't have any wings?_

Abruptly, the door in front of her opened before she could ask anything more.

"Come and enter through the door. We have little time left. I fear that the passage I have created to you is still a fragile thing, it seemed. You are much harder to reach, child."

Lyanna stepped through the door and what greeted her inside made her want to turn around and escape, but found the door gone. She glanced back at the old man trapped in a tree. The weirdwood had grown past him. One red eye peering at her through his long white hair. He resembled more of a skeleton than a living man.

"Strange child." The man croaked to her, barely above a whisper as if he hadn't talked in ages. "I think it's about time I introduce myself to you, Lyanna Stark, or whomever you may be behind that face you wear…"

 _Whomever I may be behind my -?_ _What did he mean by that?_  She thought, confused.

"My name is the three-eyed-raven." The old man croaked.

"Why have you invited me here?" She asked in a low voice, stepping forward and briefly scanning the rest of the place. She soon discovered that she was somewhere deep beneath the earth, some kind of cave where roots of various sizes grew and protruded from the ground to ceiling, and amongst them, Lyanna also saw bone-white skeletons scattered around the ground, bones of humans, other creatures, and even from giants and other elder races.

They were all there.

Lyanna was standing on a pile of all things dead and broken. And as she raised her right foot, she soon realized that she had been stepping over a crushed skull of what she presumed was a baby.

She stared at it before stepping back, her face had gone pale as fallen snow.

"Because it is time that I must show you the things I see…the things I saw…"

Her attention went back to the three-eyed-raven, as he had introduced himself to her.

"The visions of the morrow." The old man said, "Visions that I knew for a certainty. Visions that I saw clearly when you were but four moons at the most in your mother's womb… I had been certain then… but it all began to change..."

She frowned when she detected the hint of fear and uncertainty in the man's voice.

"My eyes began to fail me as you grew. It was only when you were born that I lost the sight completely. Only then did I know what fear was, that even I cannot draw comfort from the darkness that had cloaked me since far as I can remember…"

Lyanna felt his fear too keenly like it was her own when he told her this.

"I had a thousand eyes and one, but now I have only one. The path I see leads only to you and no more…You have blinded me, strange child. And yet.. I do not begrudge you…for I have little strength left in me and it seemed that it is time for me to past on the knowledge. I must guide you, for your path may be far more treacherous than the one I saw…"

 _What did you see? What visions have you seen of my future?_ She wanted to ask, but she dared not voice them out loud.

There was fear inside her too, of simply knowing the truth. Apart of her didn't want to know what the man had seen.

"I have sent you those visions when I could not talk to you...You may have manage to relived one of the visions in your dreams as you had been in that different life, if you recall..."

Lyanna's brows knitted, trying to remember what dream the man was implying, and drew in a complete blank, except for a piece of song and the glimmer of silver hair.

"-or not..." the three-eyed-raven sighed when Lyanna did not answer. "I sent those visions for you, to warn you and for you to change your path this time...I knew you were not the same babe who have been the reason to have cause so much death and destruction."

Lyanna's mind reeled when she heard this.

 _Me? Have I really cause so much death and destruction? But…but -_   _ **No**_ … _I couldn't have._

_**Not yet. Not yet…** _

Her eyes narrowed.

Why should Lyanna believe him?

She shouldn't be trusting the man so easily, most certainly about the things that hadn't even happen yet.

And the man might be her true enemy for all she knew.

"You will soon find out that I spoke true, strange child." The three-eyed-raven said to her. He must have heard her thoughts and this only made Lyanna warier of him.

The tree seemed to sigh, along with the man. Both sounded exasperated at her apparent mistrust.

"Your path is uncertain still. But you must learn. You must learn  _everything_...to prepare you for what is to come. Now, it is time that I show you what you must know. I have stored these visions in the very roots of the tree that held me, for you to view them, for you to understand, and mayhap someday become of use to you."

Then, the vision changed and Lyanna found herself someplace else.

The blast of frigid wind whirled around her, whipping her dark hair about in complete disarray. Lyanna scanned her new surroundings and only saw white, grey, and complete desolation.

All ice around her, even the sea was frozen.

"Where am I?" she asked sharply, angrily, as the vision blurred once more, changing.

"Where have you taken me?!" She demanded next.

There was no answer.

When she turned again, Lyanna froze up as she saw something in the far shores.

In the same instance, she heard the voice answering through the howling winds of winter.

"You are… _elsewhere_ …"

**CRRAAACCCCKKKK-CRRRAACCCKKKK**

The ice beneath her heaved. It began to splinter, causing Lyanna to lose her balance as the cracks spread across the entire frozen sea where she could see ships entombed in the sheets of ice.

Not a moment too soon, there was another  **CRRRRAAACCCKKK-** ing noise which generated across the white wasteland, reverberating and sounding like a growling monstrous beast.

**CRRAAACCCCKKKK-CRRRAACCCKKKK**

Water came surging out from the cracks, rushing back to reclaim the broken sea.

Lyanna jumped cautiously from one bobbing broken sheets of ice to another, spreading her arms to balance herself, afraid of tipping off as the bergy bits drifted apart.

Something glinted in the distance and when Lyanna narrowed her eyes in that direction, she caught a glimpse of a figure garbed in a reflective armor.

It was a man standing amidst the army of corpses and huge beasts that looked to be some giants.

When she looked closely, the figure didn't appear to be human. He was too unearthly and beautiful to be called human. With his hair and skin as white as the moon and blue eyes glowing like a pair of blue captured stars.

And lying atop his head was a crown of ice.

The figure raised its arms and Lyanna cursed as the water surged, and what remained of the ice shattered around her.

**CRRAAAAAAACCCCKKKKK!**

The ice splintered completely, setting the ships free, where it then began to float on the water on their own, leading them near where the Kingly figure stood along with his waiting army.

Lyanna nearly slipped but then she flattened herself on the sheet of ice she was perched on and looked towards the drifting ships.

Warily, she watched as the figure in armor carefully led the army of the dead into the freed ships. Ice giants, and so many of the dead, were crawling up to board the deck like ants from her vantage point.

At the sight of them, Lyanna's insides turned to ice. She grew fearful at the thought of what this army of the dead could do – of what it would mean for the living.

When the ships began to move in the water, Lyanna tried to see if she could move closer.

And as she wished for it to happen, she suddenly appeared with a  **CRACK!**  close to the ship where she could see the figure wearing the unusual armor standing at the prow of the ship, his eyes were bright and he had a small sad smile forming in his lips.

Lyanna stared, scrutinizing the armor that seemed to blend in well with the environment like a glamor.

As if sensing her wide-eyed stare, the figure slowly directed its attention to her and Lyanna met its glowing blue eyes.

The King stared at her. Straight at her.

And she could sense the dark and terrible power he held in those gaze.

There was an entire galaxy of stars in those eyes, but a yawning void there as well.

A void that was calling out to her, where she felt an answering echo at the back of her mind.

When like was calling to like.

Ice calling to ice.

And when the King beckoned for her, Lyanna felt the strong pull. The ebony black door in her mind began to rattle uncontrollably.

 _No!_ Lyanna thought in sheer, blind panic, trembling and taking a step back when she saw the King strode towards her. His mouth moving, speaking – in a cold, brittle language that would have sounded the gnashing of ice to anyone, but Lyanna understood him well enough.

She understood and what she heard…what she heard…

Lyanna would soon rather forget it than accept it.

_NO!_

Without warning, there was a mighty roar of a monstrous beast somewhere above her.

**RRAAAAAAWWWWRRRRR!**

Startled, she looked up just in time to see a dragon descending from the skies. It's wings shimmering like opaque white crystals and showering a fine dust of snowflakes on her, with those massive wings beating against the wind. So huge it was that it could have dwarfed two dragons.

Its scales glimmered in the low light, appearing pale blue as frost, and its eyes – its eyes were the same ones that she had seen from the King. It had a breath so cold that it had cause a blizzard almost at once.

As Lyanna vanished from sight after she had willed it, she watched as the King rode the Ice Dragon and saw him lead its army to fetch the rest of his thralls from the place Beyond-the-Wall. Then, his host sailed out to Westeros.

Meanwhile, on the other part of the world, Lyanna saw an armada of ships where she could see a woman with silver-gold hair streaming behind her as she stood at the prow of the ship, with black sails blowing against the wind and bearing the sigil of a three-headed dragon.

Somewhere above them, Lyanna could see three dragons soaring, roaring in the skies and breathing fire.

There was going to be a war.

.

When she returned to the place with the three-eyed-raven, Lyanna had nothing to say.

She was shocked speechless.

What she had seen so far…

Lyanna could not understand a whit of it.

"Those were visions of a different morrow, yet somehow the Night's King was able to see you." The three-eyed-raven spoke in curiosity, and also suspiciously "What did the creature say to you, strange child? To have made you so frighten?"

Lyanna was brought back to the present at the man's question. Upon recalling what the King had said to her, a shiver went straight up her spine. She didn't know whether she should admit the truth or not. After a careful deliberation, Lyanna decided to contend with speaking the half the truth of it.

"He said…" she began hesitantly, her gut twisting.

_**I've been waiting for you…** _

"He said that he's been waiting…" Lyanna's voice came out strangled.

"Waiting for what, strange child?" was the old man's next question.

_For me…_

**I've been waiting for you…**   _ **my Queen…**_

_His Queen._

"The chance to destroy all the living." She lied instead, getting sick at the implication of what the title meant. "That's all…the Ice Dragon arrived before he could speak more of…of his plans."

The greenseer must have guess correctly that she wasn't entirely telling the truth. If his lone, red eye narrowing at her through his long white hair was anything to go by.

"It seemed that I can't bring you here to where I dwell." Bryden Rivers rasped out, eyeing her carefully. "But be that as it may, you are more powerful than I first presume… You do not need the roots of this tree to anchor you or use them to see far and wide to wherever you may wish."

Lyanna barely heard him as her mind went back to the things she had seen in those visions.

 _There are dragons... They are not dead._ Lyanna thought, excitement filling her at the chance of flying on top of one. But as soon as she imagined it, her excitement vanished when she remembered the King and his army and his beautiful Ice Dragon.

_There is going to be a war..._

"However, there are still certain places that you mustn't go…places that are not meant for people like you and I, places such as Asshai, and for you…"

Lyanna looked up then and forced herself not to flinch when she realized that she was under the scrutiny of the three-eyed-raven.

"- for you… everything Beyond-the-Wall. You mustn't see beyond these places, Lyanna Stark…or you will be lost…"

The old man warned her and she didn't need to understand what the three-eyed raven meant about 'lost'.

She had no plans of seeing the King again. Of that, she was certain.

Though she hadn't heard about this place called Asshai and wondered where it was.

"Will I remember the things that I have seen?" She asked him after a moment. "Will I remember them when I wake?"

"I think not, child. But you will… someday until that black door is open."

At the mentioned of the black door, Lyanna was suddenly there.

It looked the same, standing there beneath the flight of stairs with the symbol glowing pale blue as frost, like the color of the Winter Rose.

"All you have seen. All the things you discovered from your green dreams, will go to that door." The voice echoed through the darkness around her, slowly fading.

"It will remain locked in there until you find the key. This is what I strongly believe...But this will be the end of your wanderings for today. You will know more of the things that you need to learn the next time we meet, dark one…"

* * *

**Æ**

_With red tears running down a face so fair,_

_And blue flowers woven in her hair,_

_She climbed up the highest tower._

_Bathed by the moon in the twilight hour,_

_There she flew away in her eagle wings,_

_And spelled the deaths of dragons and Kings._

_Oh, Jenny, Jenny._

_My poor, lovely Jenny._

_She called for her Prince whose breath had been stolen._

_She howled and cried when her red star had fallen._

_So she flew towards the sun, way up and higher._

_She soared so high 'til her wings caught fire._

_Then, she broke and fell to her tragic end._

_To death and ice and the doom of men._

_._

_High in the halls of the kings who are gone._

_Jenny would dance with her ghosts._

_The ones she had lost and the ones she had found._

_And the ones who had loved her the most._

_The ones who'd been gone for so very long._

_She couldn't remember their names._

_They spun her around on the damp, cold stone._

_Spun away her sorrow and pain._

_And she never wanted to leave_

__

* * *

 

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Wars to Come**

* * *

**"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." – Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning (GoT S06E03, "Oathbreaker.")**

**"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come." - Mance Rayder (GoT S05E01, "The Wars to Come.")**  
**.**  
**"I don't believe in saviors. I believe men of talent have a part to play in the war to come." – Varys the Spider (GoT S05E01, "The Wars to Come.")**

 **"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, your grace** **..." - Jon Snow (GoT S07E05)  
**

* * *

Lyanna rose from the hot spring, naked as her name day. The hot steam whirled around her as she waded through the water. She could feel the mud on her feet, squeezing out between her toes while she reached the shallower part of the hot spring. Gathering her dark brown hair, she began wringing the water out from it.

She watched her own reflection on the water while she hummed to herself, a song she recalled hearing from the new washerwoman who came from Bear Island.

**_Six maids in a pool_ **

**_They're of noble blood_ **

**_One Fool, but great, on the shore_ **

**_He'd seen that flower full of love_ **

**_"She'll be in my garden" - he'd sworn_ **

**_Her name was Jonquil, pure child_ **

**_Tough father had made a deal:_ **

**_By ugly, full of money lord_ **

**_That beauty will have to be killed, oh_ **

Lyanna sang the song, allowing her voice to carry all throughout the Godswood with only the ancient trees as her silent audience.

'Six Maids in the Pool,' the song was called. A song about a hero from the riverlands named Florian, who run away with a lovely maiden named Jonquil. Vaguely, she remembered what the washerwoman had told her more about the song.

 _"It is the song about Florian and his lovely Jonquil, milady."_ The washerwoman had explained to her when Lyanna had asked. The woman's name was Maegery. She had black hair and brown eyes and tall for a woman of four and twenty.

 _"Where did you hear it?"_ Lyanna had asked out of curiosity.

 _"From the riverlands,"_ had been the woman's reply. _"The riverfolks tell a story of how the song was sung by a wandering bard named Thomas the Rhymer during a wedding feast, though many found it curious as there had been no knights yet when the song was first heard in the Age of Heroes... Knights only appeared when the Andals came to Westeros with their iron swords and their Faith of the Seven. Some say the song, 'Six Maids in the Pool,' was not merely a song at all…but **a prophecy**."_

 _"A prophecy?"_ Lyanna hated prophecies. She knew that there was nothing good in easily believing in them. Only mad men believed in such things as prophecies.

Lyanna felt like she should know this first hand.

_"Aye, most believe the songs made by Thomas the Rhymer are prophecies."_

_"Truly? Has the prophecies in the songs come to past then?"_

_"Mayhap it has, it is uncertain yet…but some say that it had…a thousand times before. Do you want me to tell you the tale behind the song, milady?"_

Lyanna had simply nodded her head, more intrigue than anything.

 _"Once there was a knight,"_ Maegery had started with a smile on her lips _, "He was not of noble birth, as the songs would have you believe, but Florian was more than noble…"_

 _"What is he then?"_ Lyanna had inquired, wondering.

_"The others say he is a God in mortal form, from the Faith of the Seven."_

_"The Warrior?"_

_"At first, he is."_

_"At first?"_

_"Aye, milady. For he is a God with many faces...He is ever-changing."_

_"A shape-shifter? Or a strong warg?"_ had been Lyanna's excited question, wanting to know more about this Florian who could possibly do magic.

_"Mayhap he is both…a strong warg if he is one, might be the strongest warg that ever live, no one can tell, though the others tell the tale that he was the Warrior, then the Father, then the Smith, and at last… the Stranger. He is all of them…and yet none of them, for he is no one…He is the Silent God. A dreamer...Invisible and immortal. He hides his course in reeds, with lies, mummery, and fools' masks…or so as the tale went…"_

_"But what of the Maiden, Mother and the Crone? Are they one and the same too?"_

Lyanna had glimpsed a mysterious smile forming in Maegery's lips at her question.

_"When there is a God. There is also a Goddess... Do you believe in a Triple Goddess, milady?"_

_"I don't know…"_ She had replied, remembering something; a memory involving a hairless white cat with mismatched eyes, which had one green eye on the left and one blue eye on the right. The cat was named  **Hecate** and Lyanna recalled listening to a bushy-haired girl explained what breed of cat it was and more of the its name.

" _I was told by someone that there is a Goddess named Hecate,"_ had been Lyanna's reply to Maegery. Her forehead had throbbed for some unfathomable reason after recalling the particular memory.

_"I have not heard that name my lady. But I do know of a Goddess who bore three aspects, and she is from the Faith of the Seven. The Maiden, the Mother and the Crone. Many believe them to be one and the same."_

_"Was Jonquil a Maiden in mortal form then?"_

_"Mayhap she was... In the tale, Florian the Fool, in disguise, came upon Jonquil bathing in the pool…She was a lovely maiden, so fair and pure to look upon that Floran fell in love with her at first sight."_

_"Did Florian saw her bathing in a river?"_

The washerwoman had burst out laughing at Lyanna's question, and said to her, " _No, she was bathing in the lake. Some say that it was in the Gods Eye across from the Isle of Faces...but mayhap you shall want to hear the song first in its entirety before I tell you the tale…would you like that Lady Lyanna?"_

_"Of course."_

__

Six maids in a pool

They're of noble blood

One Fool, but great, on the shore

He'd seen that flower full of love

"She'll be in my garden" - he'd sworn

Her name was Jonquil, pure child

Tough father had made a deal:

By ugly, full of money lord

That beauty will have to be killed, oh

.

Oh oh, glorious Florian-

He was the first who had opened her thighs

Oh oh, glorious Florian,

Run from thousands of lies

To the happiest day of their lives

.

He was a knight of famous name,

The owner of Furious sword

But now he's fool with motley shield

Because of cutting word.

Despite of misery and fate,

Pride's what he feels for real

He'll care about vows he gave

With blade of Valiry steel, oh

.

Oh oh, glorious Florian-

He was the first who had opened her thighs

Oh oh, glorious Florian,

Run from thousands of lies

To the happiest day of their lives...

Oh oh, glorious Florian-

.

He was the first who had stolen her bud,

Kissing her petals &

Whispering swears,

Green grass had colored with blood..

.

Oh oh, glorious Florian-

He was the first who had opened her thighs

Oh oh, glorious Florian,

Run from thousands of lies

To the happiest day of their lives...

Lyanna sang, remembering the tale behind the song. In the story Jonquil was betrothed to marry a rich lord, but before Jonquil could marry the man, she was abducted by two knights under the orders of the Crown Prince. Jonquil had to cut her hair short and dyed her hair blonde - the color of honey - and then made it look like she had been killed. In their journey to have Jonquil marry the prince, Florian came upon Jonquil bathing in the lake, who was then half in love with the lovely maiden.

However, Florian's vows compelled him to follow through with the plan that the Prince had set, albeit it didn't stop Jonquil from starting an intense and secret love affair with Florian on their way to Gulltown, where the Prince was said to be waiting.

In the end, however, Jonquil never did marry the Prince. Instead she run away with her knight after they were caught in bed together. But Jonquil found out that Florian had lied to her too. She discovered that her white knight was no ordinary knight at all, but he was something more. Florian was a powerful skinchanger, who had hidden motive to see the rightful heir sit the throne. The one who bore the sword. A sword with a great burden to bear.

At first, Lyanna had thought it was a story about the Blackfyre heir. But Maegery had said that it was not, and hinted that it was a story about the descendant of the Warg King who uses direwolves as his thrall.

_"He is not a Blackfyre, milady, for he doesn't belong to the House Targaryen...but his house is as ancient as yours...He descended from the line of the First Men, the last Warg King himself...a rebel by heart...If he had a House sigil, it would be a black direwolf on a white field..."_

_"Was Florian a stark then?"_

_"No...Florian is not a Stark...The man uses too many names and a thousand disguises to be called anyone. Florian is simply no one..."_

As the story went, many thought Jonquil and Florian were dead, but in truth, they were very much alive. The two had joined a mummer's troupe and had continue living a simple life in Dorne, or traveling in the free cities disguise as a merchant and a courtesan, sometimes a fisherman and his daughter, or a maester and a septa, whatever fits the occasion. They hid behind masks as they waited for their children to grow more in to the position of power each day. Until the right time when the two lovers will reveal themselves to the world and end the lies.

Lyanna found the story fascinating and the song passing queer. However, other than the song 'Six Maids in a Pool', Maegery had also taught Lyanna other songs such as, 'The Bear and the Maiden Fair', 'The Dornishman's Wife', 'Two Hearts That Beat as One', 'The Winter Maid', 'Alyssane', 'My Lovely Jenny', 'Autumn of My Day', and so many others.

Lyanna had wrote the songs down on pieces of parchment so that she could memorize them and sing the songs by heart as Maegery had advised her to do.

 _"Remember milady. Some of these songs are thought to be prophecies. You mustn't take them lightly, for it might become of use to you in the future,"_ had been the washerwoman's parting words to her.

Soon after, when Lyanna had went to the well where she usually saw the woman take bucket loads of water, Maegery was nowhere to be seen.

Old Nan had told her that Maegery had left for the Riverlands and left a cryptic message for Lyanna to figure out.

_"Look to the stars as most Maesters would want to do, Lady Lyanna...for **its only through the stars, you will find the answers to your riddle."**_

The wind blew against Lyanna's flushed face while the blood-red leaves of the weirdwood tree rustled above her. The sound was almost like a whisper when she gave her hair a last squeeze, watching as the droplets of water hit the black pool. It created a ripple effect across the surface.

Afterward, she walked barefooted towards the tree where she had lain her clothes down. She picked them up and slipped them on. Like she had often done before, Lyanna started her morning ride in the wolfswood, albeit she had only began bathing in the hot spring when she ended up dirty and sweaty afterwards.

Lyanna knew that there were a lot of things that she could gain from horseback riding. She had come to realize that such exercise could improve her balance and stability which was something critical that she needed to learn when she would start training sword fighting by herself. This would prevent herself from being overpowered by an adversary in sword fighting as being small of stature and slender could certainly put her at a disadvantage. She also needed to work around this weakness and learn how to immediately transfer weight on her body to keep her center of gravity stable.

During her morning rides, Lyanna had often pushed herself to remain on the saddle even when she changed the speed and maneuvered her horse around any obstacles that could easily unseat her. It was a kind of training to master her core muscles, to stay put in the saddle even throughout the speed with which the outside forces would quickly shift against her. She knew that she could harness these skills more on the ground, where the terrain was more compact and easy to maneuver around. Thus, improving her balance and stability would prevent anyone from taking her unawares and gaining ground on her.

Meanwhile, the muscles that Lyanna had manage to build since she had begun riding had helped too. She remembered how she had ache all over after she had taken to horseback riding, but it was a sweet ache which slowly faded as Lyanna continued with her morning rides. Lyanna had built lean muscles on her thighs and legs through the years, and this was something Lyanna could use when she would begin her informal training at arms. More than that, horseback riding had also helped Lyanna with coordination and flexibility. Two essential things that she would certainly refined on while she would target other weaknesses that she would come across during her exercises or drills.

Eye-hand coordination, rhythm, swift reaction-time and balance made up for coordination, elements that would help Lyanna deliver strikes without hesitation, to attack with speed and accuracy, but with equal amounts of deliberate calculation, whereas better flexibility meant a better range of motion, which in turn would reduce tension on her muscles and lessen the risk of injury if it came to lifting heavy objects - a requirement that she needed to learn when it was time for Lyanna to use a real sword, since holding one was not as easy as her father's household guards made it looked.

Holding a blade would require muscles in the arms and excellent grip to prevent injury on oneself or anyone within the vicinity, such as accidentally throwing the sword after losing its grip, or an uncontrolled follow-through that could result to hacking one's limbs in half. But for Lyanna to practice safely, or without fear of injuring herself, she needed to strengthen her arms as well. Though of course, she would start her training by using a stick or a practice sword. This was what Lyanna had begun planning after she had read the instructional tomes she had snuck out from the Winterfell's library. Some of the books she had read contained sketches of the proper ways to wield weapons, though it was not the same if Lyanna had someone to teach her personally. Yet she had to make do with what she had than made it known to her father what she was doing while she snuck out to the Godswood by herself.

After Lyanna slipped into her clothes, she knelt down in front of the weirdwood tree and touched it's brooding face. Her fingers brushing against the red sap that seeped from its eyes.

It always unnerved Lyanna to see the red sap and couldn't help but feel curious as to the reason why the weirdwood looked like it was crying blood. Lyanna had asked Old Nan once and the woman had simply told her,  _"The weirdwood tree shed its bloody tears for it is sad."_

_"Why is it sad?"_

_"Because the Old Gods have watched their children kill each other since the Dawn of Days. They watch when one brother is set against the other, when certain sacrifices must be made...and when blood must be shed from those who are marked and chained to the role of a yearly King."_

_"A yearly King?"_

_"Aye, a King who is killed when crops do not grow, for to spill their blood upon the earth, the water, the snow, or upon the sands, can promise a bountiful harvest before the coming Winter…"_

_"But that is terrible thing to do! Are you speaking true, Old Nan?"_

_"It is_  only _a tale milady, told by those before me…but there is often a grain of truth from the tales I tell you…It is a terrible thing to use blood sacrifices… **and dark** …but  **All Kings must die** , milady…and the King's blood will water the crops that needs to be watered, and beneath the earth, there are those who are  **always hungry**..."_

_"Who? Who are hungry?"_

_"Why the children, milady. The children who is there before us…"_

_"Do you mean the children of the forest?"_

_"Hmn...Do you ever wonder why there is war, Lady Lyanna?"_ Old Nan had asked instead of answering her question.

_"Yes…"_

_"Because when there is war, there is bloodshed….and when there is blood, there is **Iron**. To most, blood sacrifice is made to ask the Gods for divine protection. It is a ritual offering for those who sleep beneath the earth and water… to pay the **Iron price** , as the Ironborn often said."_

_"What do you mean by it, Old Nan?"_

_"War and bloodshed is required to bring in a new world, milady…where a new Queen can undo what has been written…and break the chains to herald for **a new age to come…"**_

Lyanna had shivered when Old Nan had told her the reason.

 ** _"Iron from Ice,_** _is The House Forrester's words…"_ was Old Nan's next cryptic words. _"For Iron comes from Ice…you must remember that, Lady Lyanna, for **Winter is Coming** , and what you are my lady, you are made of Iron... You possess the crown with the iron thorns."_

_"A crown of iron thorns? But I am no Queen, Old Nan…and I don't have a crown."_

Old Nan had chuckled then, as if she knew a certain secret that Lyanna was not privy to.

 _"Aye, you are no Queen, Lady Lyanna…"_ Old Nan had replied, but her eyes seemed to say, _**"Not yet…"**_

_"But soon enough, you will come to understand how wars are started…and then you shall see when the **Dragons dance**."_

**_"The Dance of Dragons."_**  Lyanna had murmured, _"But Brandon said the Dragons are all dead… Most of them perished during the Dance …"_ and then it came to her all of a sudden, _"the Dragon's blood…most of the battle was done above the Gods Eye during the Dance, and in the Riverlands. Blood had run red in the water… The Dance of Dragons was a bloodletting, wasn't it?"_

At her words, Lyanna had recalled how Old Nan had simply cackled like a chicken and begun muttering to herself.

_"Oh, how the white-haired harpy shall scream when her reign shall end. The Age of Heroes shall come again…"_

Old Nan had left afterward without answering Lyanna's questions. The woman had never told her who the white-haired harpy was and her statement about a second Age of Heroes.

Lyanna bowed her head and payed her respect to the Old Gods. In silence, she prayed and asked for pardon if she might have disturbed the rest of those sleeping around the sacred grove. She knew that her singing was loud enough to wake the dead.

The cold wind blew against her flush face, stirring wisps of her dark brown hair.

 

* * *

_**** _

**_"Then, as he watched, a bearded man forced a captive down onto his knees before the heart tree. A white-haired woman stepped toward them through a drift of dark red leaves, a bronze sickle in her hand._ **

**_"No," said Bran, "no, don't," but they could not hear him, no more than his father had. The woman grabbed the captive by the hair, hooked the sickle round his throat, and slashed._ **

**_And through the mist of centuries the broken boy could only watch as the man's feet drummed against the earth … but as his life flowed out of him in a red tide, Brandon Stark could taste the blood."_ **

**_-A Dance of Dragons by G.R.R Martin_ **

* * *

Two moons had passed since she had begun her lesson with Old Nan. By this point, Lyanna had also began observing her brothers while they trained. There was a covered bridge just in front of the yard that connected to the bailey. It was there that Lyanna usually spent her time watching her brothers do their morning drills.

The master-at-arms usually start with a simple-enough stretching exercises. Lyanna took note of those. After allowing her brothers to stretch, Master Cassell would ask both Brandon and Ned to position themselves in their normal fighting stance, wherein the Master-at-Arms always found something wrong with her brother's stances, scolding both her brothers none-too-gently.

And as soon as the Master Cassell was done correcting them, the court yard would fill with the ringing noises of hitting wood against wood as her brothers took turns attacking at each other.

She carefully observed their footwork and how they struck. Both her brothers were quick on their feet, Lyanna had to admit, but sometimes she noted the hesitation there as well by the way they seemed to forgo using a follow-through, or how either of their foot would end up half-lifted off the ground.

More than that, she noticed all at once that her brothers projected their planned of attack so obviously with their body movements.

**CLACK – CLACK – CLACK**

Brandon was striking wildly, putting more strength in his blows, with his sword striking Ned's shield with a loud  ** _THUNK!_** that was sure to rattle anyone's teeth. Ned was sure-footed but even he nearly stumbled when Brandon lashed out with his sword.

"Come on, Ned."

Brandon's voice drifted towards her as she saw him shift to the left ever so slightly, and Lyanna knew instantly Brandon was about to attack Ned's right side.

And she was right. Brandon brought his sword out, where Ned barely countered it with his own in time.

 **CLACK!** was the sound as their practice sword clash, with Ned attacking almost at once.

Lyanna watched as Brandon twisted to the side and out of the way as Ned aimed for his shoulder, using his sword to parry Ned's sword away.

"You need to be faster, dear brother." Brandon said while doing that tell-tale roll of his shoulder for a brief moment that Lyanna knew her brother would attack with a lunge and an upward slash.

Not a moment later, Brandon did just that.

Lyanned sighed out loud when she saw this. She wanted to go down there and reprimand him for it, for being so obvious in what he intended to do.

"As you sorely need to keep quiet, Brandon." Ned responded in a soft voice, though Lyanna could still hear him speak from where she stood in the covered bridge. "I think there's no need of talk during training. It will only serve to distract you."

"As it will serve to distract you too, brother of mine."

Lyanna saw the lunged coming before Ned did.

With his right foot skidding on the ground, Brandon lunged forward and swung, bringing his sword down. Ned failed to raise his shield on time and Brandon's sword hit Ned squarely in the right shoulder.

**THUMP!**

She saw Ned winced in pain, but he was quick to retaliate. Lyanna could clearly read her brother's next move, as clear as day and as easily like she could read his mind.

Inwardly, Lyanna sighed.

There it was, the dipping of Ned's head and twisting of his wrist, with his eyes flashing left, that could only mean that he was about to evade and attack with a down stroke at the same time.

Ned favored this move. Lyanna had oft times seen him do it that she wanted to scold him as well.

**SMACK! THUCK!**

She watched as her brothers exchange more strikes while raising their shields up. But as she continued to observe both of them, Lyanna was tempted to close her eyes in exasperation.

No, both of her brothers needed a thorough scolding. Their moves were so plain to see that Lyanna feared for her brothers' lives if they got into a fight in the future. These were an unconscious move, yet if not checked or immediately corrected, it could very well mean her brothers deaths if their enemies noticed them.

Ned projected his attack through a simple dip of his head, the twist of his wrist and the bending of his knee, added to that was the constant shifting of his eyes whenever he planned to twist around or evade. Brandon, on the other hand, was not even trying to be subtle. His fighting style was as loud as he loudly boasted the numbers of girls he had kissed.

An adversary with a keen, observant eye would not miss these things, while a smart adversary would certainly keep track on these moves and use them to counteract her brothers' attacks. Her brothers would become too predictable, if that was the case, and this would be their undoing. Brandon and Ned need to learn to focus on their adversary's movements and minimize theirs.

Lyanna knew this. She could almost recall having taught the same thing to people who exaggerate their hand movements despite using non-verbal words to attack. A simple flick and wave would have sufficed but aggressive fighters tend to use the maximum space to draw out more power of their attack, and forget the need for subtlety.

This was what they had reasoned to her, Lyanna dimly recalled, but in theory, drawing power through exaggerated had movements was not possible.

She couldn't understand what those hand movements were used for. However, she knew the lesson learned could be applied similarly to swordfighting, albeit more on close-range combat.

There was tickle at the back of her mind telling Lyanna that she had taught – no, trained and even led a squad of her own. She knew there had been a squad of novices whom she had trained in defense to fight against the dark side. And later on, she had lead battle-hardened men who would not hesitate to use force if necessary and bloodying their hands when it came to that. While somewhere in her obscure memories, Lyanna could almost hear the ghost of a mentor who had always reminded her to keep a  _'Constant Vigilance'_ ; a mentor with a swiveling eye that could see the back of his head.

It reminded Lyanna somehow of Bryden Rivers, or as some people called him Bloodraven, whom was said to have ruled the Seven Kingdoms in all but name with his spies and spells, which inspired singers to make a song for him.

 ** _'How many eyes does Bloodraven have?'_** Lyanna thought. ' ** _A thousand eyes, and One.'_**

And the thought of a person having a thousand eyes to watch over the world made Lyanna shiver and wondered if she was being watch herself too. But who would care to keep an eye on a girl like her? Lyanna was no older than eight.  _The Northman's daughter_. No one of importance… except perhaps she was more of use to her father by marrying her off to secure allegiance with the other great Houses which she knew Maester Walys had begun planting in her father's head.

She suspected this when the Maester had begun teaching Lyanna about heraldry and the family history of the Baratheon's, the Tully's and the Arryn's. Great Houses which Lyanna knew whose blood could be trace back to the blood of the First Men. Oft times the Maester's insistence that Lyanna learn heraldry reminded Lyanna of the games she had played with her brothers and the other children in Winterfell when her mother had still been alive.

"Come on, Ned! Stop hesitating and strike me!"

Lyanna straightened up as her attention went back to her brothers on the courtyard. Brandon was boasting again.

"You're slow as turtle, dear brother, though not as shy as our little brother."

Lyanna wanted to roll her eyes at Brandon's words.

What was the use of wanting to become a knight when Lyanna couldn't even go down there on the training yard to join and practice with her brothers? Even more so when she didn't' dare correct her brothers? For certain, her brothers wouldn't take her reprimand very well. She could almost imagine them telling her these things,  _'How would you know about swordfighting Lyanna, when you haven't even been taught once?'_  Or her brothers could simply say to her,  ** _'You know nothing, Lyanna,'_** and that would be far more hurtful than she would care to admit.

Because, truly, there were things that Lyanna knew nothing about, like the riddles her mind seemed to love throwing at her, riddles made up of broken and faded memories that she had difficult time piecing together. Perhaps Lyanna was a  ** _sphinx, more of the riddle and not the riddler_**. Her mind produced so many riddles that it oft times gave Lyanna a slight itch and an occasionally throbbing headache that started from her right forehead. She could not get rid of the sensation no matter what salve she put. The place in her right forehead was unblemished and smooth. Yet her mind seemed convince that there was an unhealed scar there.

A cursed scar that she wanted to scratch out until it bled.

And felt like  ** _she had three heads_**  weighing heavily upon her shoulder.

 _Three lives_ , she supposed in her mind. Like  ** _a cat had three lives_**. If she died, then she'll have two lives left, but  ** _every time_**   ** _she die and brought back to life_** ,  ** _she would end up_**   ** _losing a part of herself._**  Some parts of her life she would forget and from there she would descend down and down into the earth, with no light to light her way, deep into the crypts, into the darkness where her doom awaited. Where she would finally meet her maker...with the pale blue eyes of Death staring straight at her.

"You need to keep your shield up, my Lord." the voice of Master Cassel brought Lyanna abruptly to the present and she looked down towards the training yard.

It seemed Brandon had bested Ned for the third time that day.

She could see Ned rubbing a hand on his stomach with a slight grimace on his face. His practice sword lying discarded on the ground.

"Alright, Ned?" her other brother, Brandon, asked, looking amused, with his practice sword slung across his right shoulder.

In response, Lyanna saw Ned pursed his lips while he stooped low to pick up his own sword.

Lyanna leaned against the post of the covered bridge and crossed her arms in front of her, watching them with a small smile gracing her lips.

Brandon always loved to picked on Ned when he was defeated, while Ned merely suffered it in silent dignity.

"Did I not tell you that I will win this round, dear brother?" came Brandon's arrogant words, unslinging the flat of his sword from his shoulder and grinning. "You better keep up, Ned, before our Lord father sends me away a moon turns from now. Who are you going to fight with when I leave for Barrowtown? Not Lyanna, that's for certain."

She could hear Brandon's chuckle afterward while Ned simply positioned himself into a fighting stance. Silent as ever.

At her brother's statement, Lyanna's brows knitted. It was true. Ned was a bit slower than Brandon, but after carefully observing them, she noticed that Ned had far better qualities as a fighter than Brandon in all honesty.

Compared to Brandon, Ned had the patience to wait out and gauge his enemy before attacking. Brandon, on the other hand, had neither the patience and he was more apt to end the fight soon with his brash moves and lightning-fast attacks that would easily tire him.

Brandon relied on his brute strength and speed than careful deliberation.

If Ned was given the time to train more and developed his skills, Lyanna was certain that her other brother could outfight and out tire Brandon.

As of now, Ned was still learning, as Lyanna was learning from both her brothers.

"My Lords," Master Cassell interrupted. "Might we begin again?"

Lyanna saw Ned inclined his head mutely, his foot sliding across the ground to widen his stance, while her other brother, Brandon, slinked into position with an air of confidence and a sly smile on his lips.

"Of course," she heard Brandon say, observing how her older brother raised his sword in front of him and tightening his hold on the shield he held on his left arm.

"Ready Ned?" Brandon asked, his dark grey eyes glittering. "Better keep that shield up, brother, or I'll ring that head of yours like a bell."

The master-at-arms looked at Ned then and Lyanna listened to Martyn Cassell give him advise.

"Before you raise your shield up, my Lord, draw strength from both shoulder and arm, tightened your hold on the strap. With your feet braced apart, leaned forward a bit. You must watch where the sword is about to land and only move to ensure that it hits the shield."

"I understand," She heard Ned say whose gaze had not left Brandon, who by this point was waiting impatiently.

"But try not to hide behind your shield too much, Ned," came Brandon's remarked just as Master Cassell said, "You may begin."

At once, her brothers attacked each other. The yard instantly filling with the sounds of wood hitting wood.

**CLACK – CLACK – CLACK**

She could tell Ned was determined to defeat Brandon this time. His movements were more measured and his eyes were narrowed and watchful. Lyanna smiled as she observed them, at least there was an improvement, albeit her brother still needed to minimize those instinctual habits.

In the end, Lyanna kept her silence and simply watched as her brothers honed their martial ability while she shelved the things she saw in her memory.

Master Cassell was no Knight by any means, but he was good with arms, so Lyanna could not fault him for the lack of knowledge in some areas. It was for this reason that her father was convinced to send her brother Brandon to Barrowtown and complete his training there. Maester Waly's work, to be sure, the man from the Citadel had been whispering in her father's ears as of late, planting some seeds of southron ambition if nothing else.

It was concerning for Lyanna to hear this as it would mean that her father would betrothed her to someone in a few years. Someone of importance. Most likely from one of the Great Houses of which Maester Walys' had begun teaching her about. Either from House Tully or Baratheon, one of which has male heirs already for her to marry.

As she thought more on it carefully, Lyanna could easily guess her Lord father was going to betrothed her to one of the heirs from House Baratheon as the house has strong ties to the Iron throne. Lyanna also heard that Maester Walys had began suggesting that Ned be fostered at the Vale, alongside the Baratheon heir.

If only Lyanna had been born a man and she would have the choice to marry anyone she loves. Lyanna would have even gone with Brandon in the Barrowlands if it had been the case, to train alongside him as a knight.

**CLACK – CLACK – THUMP!**

"Your aim is still off, Ned." Brandon was saying after raising his shield up when Ned tried for a swift lunge, but Brandon parried Ned's next attack and pressing his own.

Lyanna continued to observe her brothers. Perhaps she would talk to Master Cassell later and mentioned the important things that her brothers needed to learn.

However, Lyanna would have to choose her words carefully as not to offend the Master-at-Arms in how he trained her brothers. She didn't want to suffer training under a teacher who would despise her just because of something she said. Because she might need the master-at-arms to train her with the bow once Lyanna got to broach the subject to her father.

* * *

**Chapter 5: Look to the Stars**

* * *

"EDDARD! NO! Ned, stop it! Don't kill him! I beg of you! Don't! I love him!"

The voice broke through the mist of uncertain morrows as the three-eyed-raven guided her through them.

"That is not the vision I wanted you to see." The raven perched on Lyanna's shoulder said, swaying with every step that Lyanna took. "It is not the right time for you to see  _Him_."

"Who is  _he_?"

"Someone you should not meet... Someone who would see the Seven Kingdoms bleed if he gets his hands on you. Here now, look at this vision."

Lyanna paused in her steps to look. The mist cleared around her to show her a vision of her brother gazing into a night fire while across from him she could see a dark-skinned woman chanting in a foreign language.

"That's your brother," the raven said, "and that woman there is named Nettles. Daemon Blackfyre's lover."

"Daemon Targaryen's…." Lyanna began, surprised. "But how is that even possible? I thought she disappeared after the Dance of Dragons?"

"Yes, she escaped from Princess Rhaenys wrath and hid in the Mountains of the Moon with her dragon Sheepstealer."

"But she doesn't look like she had aged since she disappeared."

"Yes, it's through certain sacrifices and the use of fire magic that she is able to hid her true appearance and prolong her life."

"Sacrifices?" Lyannas asked, looking horrified. She recalled what Old Nan said about blood sacrifices. "Do you mean blood sacrifices?"

"Yes."

"Why is Ned with her then?" She questioned when she finally noticed her brother's trance-like state. Ned looked older though, a man grown of ten-and-eight. Lyanna realized that the vision happened far into the future.

"What is she doing to him?"

"Your brother has been made a pawn in their game. In this vision of the morrow, your brother snuck back to the North through the Mountains of the Moon to call his banners and aid with the rebellion against the Iron Throne, but on your brother's journey, he was intercepted by the Fire witch, Nettles. By letting him gaze into the fire, the witch used the play of light and shadow to alter your brother's memory, a false illusion to make your brother believe that you were taken away by force."

Lyanna fell silent as she watched the vision unfold. She observed how the woman Nettles chanted and danced around the fire. Her voice was like music, flowing fluidly. Meanwhile, in the shadows, she saw other men and women as well, whom she guessed must be members of the Mountain clans.

"Dear child, come now," the raven pecked at Lyanna's ear, reverting her attention to it. "Let us move on into another vision. Here…look at this vision of the others who are a part of the game, of those who knew the secret of the gods."

Lyanna followed where the raven led her. The mist cleared once more and she saw a vision of her brother Ned in a room full of strangers.

Ned had his sword drawn out and he was looking cautiously at the people surrounding him. One was a woman wearing a red robe with a ruby necklace clasped around her neck. Another was a tall, fat man, and very rich - judging from the gemstones rings Lyanna could see in his fat fingers, and to his right stood a Maester in his grey robes, while on the fat man's left side stood another woman with red hair and a golden brooch pinned on her green robe; a brooch of a dragon eating its own tail.

 _She's from House Toland._  Lyanna thought.

"What is going on?" She asked, carefully looking at the strangers.

"You were taken, child…and your brothers were out looking for you." The raven spoke.

 _"You can't escape us Lord Eddard Stark."_  The fat man said, motioning for the three guards in copper armor to circle around the room, blocking the entrance way and the windows. The guards had a dornish cast to them whilst the fat man wore loose clothes of the free cities.

There was another man there too, a man who was short of stature. Lyanna only noticed him when the short man stepped out of the shadows to take a blowpipe from his pockets, and aimed it at her brother's unguarded back. Lyanna wanted to shout a warning to her brother, but the three-eyed-raven stopped her before she could.

"Your brother can not hear you, child." The raven said, "Just let the vision run its course."

And so Lyanna clamped her mouth shut and simply watched.

 _This vision of the future is not real. It has not happened yet_. Lyanna told herself.

"His name is Howland Reed, or one of the names he goes by." The raven on her shoulder said just as Lyanna watched the man shot a poison dart on her brother's neck.

For a moment, Ned's eyes register confusion when his hand reached out to touch the dart embedded on the side of his neck. He turned around to look at the man responsible for the dart, his grey eyes showing shock at the betrayal.

 _"I'm sorry, but this must be done."_  The man named Howland Reed said while her brother Ned began to sway on his feet.  _"No one must know what has occurred here. No one must know that your sister still lives."_

 _"Quickly, give him my Serra's hand,"_  the fat one urged hurriedly.  _"Give them to him."_

The woman with a ruby on her neck did what she was bidden and took out a pair of severed hands from a chest.

By this time, Ned was already on his knees with a glazed look on his eyes.

"What did they do to him?" Lyanna asked in concern.

"The dart is smeared with some kind of medicinal properties to make your brother hallucinate. You must watch what happens next. The red woman is going to use those hands to cast shadow upon your brother's memory. In the same that Nettles use fire and shadow to cast illusion. To deceive him into believing that you are dying."

 _"Ned, is that you?... Is that really you?... You're not a dream?"_  the woman was saying in voice that was weak, imitating someone sick, while her brother continued to hold unto the severed hands.

 _"No, I'm not a dream. I'm here…right here..."_  Ned replied, looking at something Lyanna could not see.

From the corners of her eyes, she watched the fat man dabbed tears from his face.

"Who is that man?" Lyanna pointed at the fat man with the yellow forked beard.

"His name is Illyrio Mopatis," came the raven's reply. "And that woman with the brooch is named Nymella Toland from Ghost Hill of Dorne, while the red woman is named Melony of Asshai."

"Who are they to me?"

"They are no one you must know," came the raven's cryptic response while Lyanna watched the group continue with the mummer's farce.

 _"I don't want to be brave."_ The red woman whispered.

_"You are."_

_"I'm not."_

Lyanna wanted to shout at her brother for believing so easily.

_"I don't want to die."_

_"You're not going to die,"_ her brother said, almost in tears.

Lyanna wanted to shake him awake if she could, but she knew she could not reach him.

"If I'm not dead, as they wanted my brother to believe. Where was I then?" She asked after the mummer's farce ended.

She felt helpless when she watched her brother being dragged away after he collapsed. The short man named Howland Reed took the severed hands away from Ned before he knocked him unconscious with another poison dart.

"Where did I go?"

"You went wherever you wanted…with  _Him,"_ came the raven's dark answer.

"Him? Who?" she asked, growing frustrated at the raven's cryptic words.

"You know who…No one but him of many faces...He is  _Death_."

* * *

**Jenny of Oldstones**

**_"High in the halls of the kings who are gone, Jenny would dance with her ghosts…" -_  ** _A Storm of Swords_   ** _, Epiloque._**

 ** _"There is a song. Jenny of Oldstones_  ** ** _, with the flowers in her hair." -_  ** _A Storm of Swords_   ** _, Chapter 45_  ** ** _, Catelyn V._**

* * *

Lyanna was dancing with a stick in her hand. Her dark hair fluttering behind her as she struck without missing her rhythm. She spun and leapt, step back once more and attacked.

It was warrior's dance, but Lyanna was still new to the songs of swords. If only she had someone to teach her how to wield a sword and dance the warrior's dance... A fine knight mayhap, a knight of renown.

**CLACK – CLACK – CLACK - SNAP**

Sweat dotted Lyanna's brows. It trickled down the sides of her face and nape. Her muscles were aching, her arms were shaking and her legs as well. Yet Lyanna did not stop training. The roughspun tunic she was wearing was already drenched in sweat and she started to rank in it.

Lyanna couldn't care less that she was dirty and of need of washing. Her sweat and her sore muscles were the testament to her hard-earned work while her scent might as well be the scent of her determination and devotion. She did not smell like a person who hadn't bathe for days. Lyanna told herself.

Perhaps people would wrinkle their nose if they smelled her, but she knew no one would dare tell her that she stinks. She was a Lord's daughter after all.

Stinking or not, it made no matter. Lyanna would still finish her training and take a bath in the hotspring afterward.

Lyanna spun on the balls of her feet and brought down the stick she was using as a practice sword in a quick slash against the Ironwood tree; once, twice, three times, with a  **CLACK – CLACK - CLACK – SNAP** sounds as it hit the bark.

The sounds sliced through the silence of the Godswood and it was loud enough to have drawn attention. But no one ever came eventhough Lyanna had been practicing there for a while. Though, perhaps, it might be due to the fact that she had chosen the best time to train where she was certain everyone would be too busy to come and investigate the noise.

**CLACK – CLACK - CLACK – SNAP**

Twisting once more, Lyanna felt the wind whipping against her face and threading through her dark hair as she moved. Her foot skidded on the ground to halt herself, dead leaves crackled beneath her bare feet as she raised her arm and slashed outward, aiming at the line marks that she had made on the Ironwood tree. Slicing left, then right, and lunging forward to stab at the target mark she had carved on the tree.

**CLACK – CLACK - CLACK – SNAP**

The stick struck the mark close but slid against the smooth bark. The force of her attack produced such a vibration that run straight up to her arm. The stick did not break though. It was thick and sturdy enough to be use as a substitute for a practice sword. It was the only reason Lyanna had chosen it as stealing a practice sword from the armory would not go unnoticed.

Lyanna stepped back and spun on her feet fluidly, gracefully like she was dancing above water, threading lightly and swiftly, but without fear of sinking and floundering.

Speed and accuracy would come later, Lyanna understood this, and so she practiced by attacking without breaking her rhythm, and do so with eyes that had the lethal sharpness of a Direwolf, albeit sometimes she had to pause for a while to stop the strong dizziness that would assail her.

**CLACK – CLACK - CLACK – SNAP**

Two moons had passed since Lyanna had started training in the Godswood. Every day, Lyanna had established a regular drill - different one each day - to improve the things that she needed to work on.

That day, she was working on a drill to find her rhythm, to improve her eye-hand coordination and orient herself to the dizzying effects of spinning, of being constantly on the move, but still remaining aware of her surroundings.

It was also to practice her footwork, to be swift as the wind, light as a feather, and yet silent as a cat.

The moss-covered ground in the Godswood muffled the sounds of footsteps, so Lyanna had taken to placing dried, dead blue leaves around the Ironwood tree she was practicing, where she would hear the crackling of leaves if she failed to thread on the areas that she was supposed to step on.

Along with her various drills, Lyanna still continued with her morning rides, finding many other things to improve on her horsemanship. This time she had convinced her older brother Brandon to go riding with her in the wolfswood, where she would send Buckbeak galloping through every obstacle that she happened by. Her thighs might as well be made of steel as she had remained seated even despite the many things she had pushed herself and her horse through.

Of course, Lyanna had been careful not to get Buckbeak injured, it could not be said the same thing for her as she had oft times ended up getting bruises and scratches from the low branches that she could not avoid in time.

Brandon had always been worried at her utter recklessness.

She recalled how her brother had been furious when Lyanna fell off her horse after a branch manage to hit her in the face. Lyanna had lain there dazed on the ground for more than was necessary that Brandon had taken her to be dead.

 _"The Others take you, Lyanna!"_  her brother had sworn after he had jumped off his horse to help her get up from the ground.  _"I thought you were dead when you had not moved! Why had you not pause when I called for you?! Were you trying to kill yourself?!"_

 _"No,"_  had been her response when she had looked at the blood in her right hand. The branch of the tree had hit her hard that it had scratch a wound on her forehead.

She remembered hoping that it had left a scar by that time when her right hand came out bloody.

_"You ought not to worry, brother. I'm tougher than I look. I have gotten far more worst injuries than this. A branch is nothing compared to getting walloped by a Whomping Willow."_

At her reply, Brandon had looked like she had said something bizarre.

 _"You must have hit your head too hard, sister, for I have never heard of this Whomping Willow you speak of,"_  had been Brandon's reply.

When she had gone on and explained to him what it was, Brandon had an expression that he thought her mad. Lyanna ignored it like she normally did every time she said something odd, which was happening often as of late.

 _"I don't want you riding by yourself once I leave for Barrowton, Lyanna."_  Brandon had told her,  _"Who would come running after you if you hit your head again?"_

As usual, Lyanna didn't listen to her brother and continued with her training even after her brother had left for Barrowton. At least, Lyanna still have something to boast to her brother when he gets back from being fostered. Lyanna had never been shy in showing off her skill in riding a horse. She's been told that she was half a horse herself and rode like a northman. Lyanna took it as compliment.

Meanwhile, other than her morning rides in the wolfwood, she had kept attending Old Nan's lesson in the mornings and visited the kitchens with her mentor when the old woman baked lemon cakes. The shipment of lemons from White Harbor had not ceased and Lyanna helped with kneading the dough while she listened to Old Nan talked to the cook and the serving maids. Sometimes she asked them things that she could use, like how to ration food and what to prepare when making camp in the wilderness.

And as it happens, it appeared that carrying a bucket of water while she tended to the flowers in the glass garden was quite beneficial to her as well. It was a good enough reason for her to disguise in building muscles in her arms and shoulders. More than that, the task added calluses in her hands.

However, when Lyanna thought it was not enough for her to toughen and strengthen her arms, which she needed to aid her in holding a heavy sword and shield, and mayhap someday an iron lance, Lyanna began a different training.

She began to climb.

Lyanna purposely chose an Ironwood tree in the Godswood, finding it simply right to use the tree to strengthen herself until there was only cold steel and iron underneath. She had picked the one with the branches that she could easily reach and support her weight, and from there she began her pursuit to reach up the skies, in the only way she knew she could, since she can't actually fly.

Surprisingly, she was well-disciplined, as if this wasn't the first time that she had conditioned her body to take up this rigorous task of lifting her weight up. Although Lyanna always started with a basic stretch as not to injure her muscles.

The first week, she pulled her weight up and counted to ten, then a week after, it became five-and-ten, and a moon after, she counted to thirty. Lyanna kept on increasing the number until she had gotten used to it but she did not hesitate to push herself farther.

Lyanna wanted to do this training as she planned to climb higher still, to see Winterfell from the tallest tower, though it may not be as high as the skies but it would be enough to see the beautiful grey sprawl of her home and savor the wind brushing against her cheeks.

It would be close to flying than Lyanna could only hope for.

Climbing had also added calluses to her hands. Her fingers and palms had bled and blistered as she kept on pressing against the rough bark of the tree, most often than not, she got a splinter of wood embedded into her skin that she had to clean and put a salve on it.

And she had fallen so many times and had gotten scrapes on her knees, elbows, shin and even bruises on her face for her effort. Right up to that, she had begun to worry that her father and brothers might start to suspect what she had been doing, for some was injuries were noticeable, and she had kept on coming up with lie for each, and had taken to sneaking into the Maester's Tower to get some salves.

If she oft came to the Maester for healing the injuries she had gotten from her training, she was certain the old man would report to her father, and it wasn't something Lyanna looked forward to.

It was for this reason alone Lyanna decided that she needed to learn more about herblore, how to make her own salve, or the entire healing arts that might become useful to her, like Old Nan had suggested to her before.

However, that wasn't the only reason Lyanna planned to go to Maester Walys.

She knew that practicing in the Godswood would not be safe for long. Someone was bound to stumble into her there.

The Godswood was too open.

Lyanna needed another place to train.

She wanted to know any secret passages or rooms where she could easily sneak out and practice more, or read the books that she had 'borrowed' from Winterfell's library and from the Maester's collection; books about martial warfare, sword fighting manuscripts and instructional tomes.

Lyanna couldn't very much hide it beneath her bed or even read the books in the safety of her room without fearing of someone walking in and finding her reading them. Thus, she needed to get the map of Winterfell where she suspected Maester Malys must have hidden somewhere in his tower.

However, for her to obtain such a map, she must regain Maester Waly's trust and get the location of the map where the Maester had hidden it.

* * *

Lyanna watched as Maester Walys peered into his Myrish eyes to view the stars outside. Beside the tallow candle, lay a chart where the old man was charting the movements of the stars.

"There are seven wanderers in the sky over the Known World, each of which are sacred to the Faith of the Seven and equated with one of the seven gods." Maester Walys said, adjusting the lenses. "Among the seven wanderers is the red wanderer, where the Faith of the Seven equated the wanderer to the Smith, and known as the Thief by the Free Folk."

"Old Nan told me when the red wanderer is visible in the constellation of the Moonmaid, it is widely believed by the freefolks to be the right moment for a man to steal a woman."

"True, but such barbaric practices are not fit for a child to hear." Maester Walys said with censure. "Your Lord father should have sent for a Septa to teach you the womanly arts than let you suffer the nonsense talk the old woman fills your head with."

Lyanna did not comment. She enjoyed Old Nan's tales and the woman's teaching methods. Lyanna would have skipped her lessons if Old Nan's lessons had been dull, which it wasn't, unlike her lessons with the Maester.

Silence filled the room as Lyanna watched the Maester continue with his charting.

"As you know, milady, we maesters study the stars and use them to count the seasons, and help us create maps for navigation. In particular, sailors use the Galley, the Crone's Lamp, and the Eye of the Ice Dragon to navigate the open seas," Maester Waly's was saying while Lyanna's eyes wandered around the room, looking for a place that would tell her where the Maester was hiding the map of Winterfell.

She saw parchments in the corner, but she suspected that it wasn't where the Maester had hidden the map.

"If you are lost, milady, you can always rely on the Eye of the Ice Dragon which points to the North. Other than that, in a clear night such as now, you will be able to see other constellations such as the Ghost, King's Crown, Moonmaid, Shadowcat, the Sow, the Stallion, and by dawn, you will see the Sword of the Morning."

"There's a constellation named after the Sword of the Morning?" Lyanna asked in surprise.

"Aye, milady."

"What does it look like?"

"At night, the constellation will look like a warrior in the skies, ready for battle, but at dawn, it will look like a pale white star."

"I'm sure Ned would want to see it. He always tells me that he likes to become the Sword of the Morning."

"Your brother could become one, if he had been born a Dayne of Starfall, but unfortunately, your brother is a Stark. Although there is no harm in letting him dream of becoming one."

There was another pause while Lyanna finished her inspection around the room. If there was a place where the Maester had hidden the Winterfell map, it could be one of those cupboards where he placed his herbs and potions.

"Maester Walys…." Lyanna began. "I was wondering…if it's possible that you could teach me how to make a salve?"

The man looked up from his Myrish eyes to scrutinize Lyanna.

"Perhaps some other time, milady, mayhap in the mornings after your lesson with  _that woman_. As of right now, you need to learn your stars. We never know when you might be lost and need a guide to your home."

She was glad that she did learn her stars or Lyanna would have gotten lost by the time she would go out riding in the Rills with Brandon during her visit in Barrowton.

* * *

****

**Æ**

**Astronomy (Fifth Year Class)**

_"The star is called Arcturus, Harry. Not Regulus. Here, let me see." Hermione ordered, taking the telescope before Harry could protest. He watched as Hermione peered into the telescope. From the corners of his eye, he saw Ron rolling his eyes at him. Harry simply give a shrug in response._

_"Yes, it's Arcturus. The brightest star in the constellation of Boötes ." Harry heard Hermione say, letting go of the telescope to look at him. " The easy way to find Arcturus is to follow the arc of the handle of the Big Dipper or Plough. By continuing in this path, you can find Spica , 'Arc to Arcturus, then spike to Spica '."_

_"Do you mean the red star is called Arcturus?"_

_"Yes, Harry. The fourth brightest star in the night sky. You need to chart it down."_

_"Alright, Hermione."_

_"Listen, both of you, together with Spica and Denebola or Regulus, Arcturus is a part of the Spring Triangle asterism, and by extension, the Great Diamond asterism. It is composed of the stars Cor Caroli in Canes Venatici , Denebola (the tail of Leo ), Spica , or the wheat of Virgo , and Arcturus in Boötes ."_

_"Why is it called Boötes again, Hermione?" Ron asked, hastily scribbling down what Hermione had said. "Because the constellation looks like a left boot?"_

_"Yes, partly that, Ron." Hermione said, frowning. "I think I've told you this three times already."_

_"I failed to write it down the first time Hermione. Can you please repeat it again?"_

_Harry watched in part amusement when Hermione threw her hand up in exasperation._

_"You're hopeless, the both of you." Hermione said to them, but complied to Ron's request. "The name comes from the Greek Βοώτης, Boōtēs, meaning ' herdsman ' or ' plowman '. The name Boötes was first used by Homer in his Odyssey as a celestial reference point for navigation . In the myth associated with Boötes, it tells the tale that he invented the plow and was immortalized for his ingenuity as a constellation… I hope you're writing all this down Ron because I'm not going to say it again…"_

_"I'm catching up, Hermione."_

_"I hope you are…hmn… moving on. From what I read, the constellation Boötes is identified with Arcas , and also referred to as Arcturus, son of Zeus and Callisto . Arcas was brought up by his maternal grandfather Lycaon , to whom one day Zeus went and had a meal. To verify that the guest was really the king of the gods, Lycaon killed his grandson, Arcturus, and prepared a meal made from his flesh. Zeus noticed and became very angry, transforming Lycaon into a wolf and brought his son back to life. In the meantime Callisto had been transformed into a she-bear, by Zeus's wife, Hera , who was angry at Zeus's infidelity. This is corroborated by the Greek name for Boötes, Arctophylax, which means 'Bear Watcher'. Callisto in a form of a bear was almost killed by her son who was out hunting. Zeus rescued her, taking her into the sky, where she became Ursa Major, 'the Great Bear'. Sometimes Arcturus is depicted as leading the hunting dogs of nearby Canes Venatici and driving the bears of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor , the Greater and Lesser Bears.."_

_"So you mean, Arcturus means Guardian of the Bear?"_

_"Yes, Ron." Hermione nodded her head. "And with some professional scholars, it is where King Arthur got his name. From the Ancient Greek word Arktouros. Arktos for 'bear' and ouros for 'watcher or guardian.' This is a reference to its being the brightest star in the constellation of Boötes, of which it forms the left foot."_

_"King Arthur. The once and future king." Ron murmured. "I know of his story and Merlin too… I remember my grandmother telling me how his father, King Uther, adapted the name Pendragon."_

_"I know of the story too, Ron." Hermione responded in her usual know-it-all voice. "King Arthur's father acquired the epithet Pendragon when he witnessed a dragon -shaped comet, where it inspired him to use dragons on his standards. The epithet Pendragon comes from the welsh word pen, which means 'head, chief or top' and the dragon is borrowed from the Latin word dracō… Pendragon literally means 'Chief-Dragon' or 'Head-Dragon', while figuratively, it means 'chief leader', 'chief of warriors' or 'commander-in-chief.'"_

__

* * *

**Chapter 6: The End Begins**

* * *

" **And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.**

 **"No," Ned said with sadness in his voice, "now it ends." As they came together in a rush of steel and shadow, he could hear Lyanna screaming. "** _**Eddard!** _ **" she called. A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky, as blue as the eyes of death.** "

- _A Game of Thrones_ , Chapter 39, Eddard X.

* * *

"Listen well, child." The three-eyed-raven croaked out. "You and  _him_  are the same. I see it now…Both of you do not belong in this world. For both of you are strangers...strangers who were brought here…"

Lyanna frowned at this, silently wondering what the old man meant.

"It is for this reason  _He_  have always wanted to break the wards surrounding the Wall and to take a certain book from the Citadel…This war is a long-time coming when everything has been written and foretold in the Book of the Stranger. The book that is signed with blood and protected by those who knows its history. The history of the Battle Isle and the bloodletting ritual that needed to be done as offering to the Gods… "

There was a paused while the three-eyed-raven scrutinized Lyanna with one red eye.

"'Wars are not good for trade', as a Hightower will tell you, but the keyholders of the Ironbank, has many, and great things to gain from war and the bloodshed to come than those petty Kings who quarrel over the Iron throne." The three-eyed-raven said, "The ink is dry and the future as you know it is written in the pages of that very book. The Book of the Stranger. It is it for this reason that you must remember what I must tell you, Lyanna Stark...So listen well."

"'The Night's King is only a man by day, but by night, it is his to rule'… The wards surrounding the Wall will only falter when both the father and the son will break their holy oaths…. when they turn their back against their vows and their sworn brothers… to fall into the mud and soil their cloaks…Remember that  _the King_ is a strong skinchanger, and he will do everything he can to make certain his son will prevail in following his plans to break the wards of the Wall…Remember this. For he may use a direwolf to guide his son toward his end and resurrection...Remember…From father to son and his holy ghost...Do not be fooled by him so easily, Lyanna Stark."

* * *

**Barrowton**

**Three weeks later…**

"Here, Buckbeak. Let's rest here. You go on and drink the water from the stream." Lyanna said to her horse while she dismounted. She was careful in stepping over the muddy ground and choose a dry area to stand.

In silence, she watched as Buckbeak plodded towards the steam and began drinking water. Her brother, Brandon, hadn't come with her that very morning to ride in the Rills since her brother had been called to practice in the training yard.

"Just be careful, Lyanna." Her brother had said to her when she was about to leave. "And come back soon or I'll come after you if you don't come back before lunch."

"Alright Brandon," had been her reply.

Lyanna may be on her own, but she wasn't afraid. She had ridden the Rills since she had begun visiting Barrowton to see her brother and she had become familiar with the trails. There was no reason for the others to worry every time she went out riding by herself.

Thoughtfully, Lyanna surveyed her surroundings, noticing the tall and old oak and pine trees around her. She was just contemplating about climbing one of the trees when she heard something from behind her, like the sound of a twig snapping in two.

_**SNAP!** _

Immediately, she grabbed the dagger that Brandon gave her that was hidden on her left boot and whirled towards the sound, crouching low and ready to attack, but to her consternation, no one was there. Only a creeping mist that seemed to appear out of nowhere, and thickening fast from the look of it.

Lyanna grew uneasy at the sight of the mist while she heard Buckbeak's fearful whinny. She rushed towards her horse, grabbing the reins before her horse could bolt away.

"Calm down, Buckbeak. Calm down." She tried to soothe the horse by brushing its mane, but the creeping mists still spooked the horse. "It's only a mist, Buckbeak. There's nothing in it."

She knew that it was a lie. There was nothing natural about the mist. The mist felt heavy that it caused the hair at the back of Lyanna's neck to rise.

Somewhere nearby she suddenly heard someone chuckling.

"Who's there?" Lyanna called out through the thickening mists. She held Buckbeak's reins tightly as the horse began to whicker and stomp the ground in its nervousness.

At the same time, Lyanna tightened her hold around the dagger on her right hand.

"Who's there?" She repeated. Her voice echoed through the woods but no one answered her question. The chuckling stopped while the mist did not dissipate. It continued to creep closer to Lyanna and her horse.

"Stop hiding and show yourself!" She demanded in part annoyance and part fear after a lapse of silence. Her instinct was telling her that she was no longer alone in the woods. Deep in her gut, she knew that there was another presence nearby.

"Behind you, milady." A voice said and Lyanna pivoted in that direction with her dagger raised high. Her eyes instantly landed on a boy of no more than three and ten years of age and wearing unusual clothes. The boy had black hair and dark skin. Clearly, he wasn't from the North, but from where? And why was he there in the first place? Lyanna could not see any horse beside him. Did he walk all the way there? If he did, Lyanna should have seen him earlier while she was following the trail.

"Do you mean to stab me with that dagger, milady?" the strange boy asked, cocking his head to the side. His dark blue eyes staring straight at her in amusement.

"I think I may have startled you too much. I do apologize if I did."

"You didn't," came Lyanna's hasty reply, lowering her dagger slightly but not completely. She eyed the boy cautiously, scrutinizing his worth and silently wondering if he was dangerous.

After a few seconds of deliberation, she decided that he wasn't.

"I wasn't startled…not really." She clarified, lowering her dagger further while still keeping a tight hold on Buckbeak's reins, where her horse had quieted down. "I'm just surprise to see someone here. That's all."

"Good to know." The boy responded, stepping forward from the oak tree he had been leaning into. "Because it was never my intention to scare you with my presence."

It was such odd words coming from a boy who was no older than she was. It sounded like he had been waiting for her there. Mayhap he had been waiting for her to pass by the stream. But why?

There was pause where the two of them eyed each other. The boy with a look of interest while Lyanna looked at him with a hint of wariness in her eyes.

"May I ask who you are?" She asked after a moment.

From the boy's loose clothing, Lyanna could guess that he was from the free cities. Yet the boy didn't appear to be bothered by the cold clime of the North. He wasn't shivering in the least despite the thin clothes he wore.

 _How odd to meet a stranger on my way to Barrowton Hall…_ She thought.  _Odder still when he appears here of all the places, where it is just near the Great Barrow of the First King._

"I'm no one of importance." The boy said with a smile. "Just an ordinary page boy…But you can call me Ambrosius."

"Ambrosius…" she murmured, still watching him carefully. "If you are a page boy, where is the Knight your serve?"

"He's in White Harbor," came Ambrosius nonplussed reply, not adding more to his perplexing answer.

Lyanna was beginning to get unnerve staring at those pale blue eyes, which sometimes appear to look purple in the light.

"Then why are you here while he's there? Shouldn't you be with him?" Lyanna asked, frowning.

"I just came from Barrowton Hall where I was asked to deliver something. That's why I am here."

"Barrowton Hall is many leagues away. How are you able to travel from there to here without me seeing you following the trail?"

"Because I came by different means, milady," came Ambrosius' serious answer.

"By what means?"

"I flew on top of an ice dragon."

Lyanna scowled at that while Ambrosius suddenly let out a laugh after seeing her expression.

"That's not funny." She said, scowling fiercely. "Did you walk going here by any chance?"

"No, milady…like I said, I came by different means."

"How? If you run or walk, I would have seen you on my way here. Tell me truly how you arrived here."

After giving him a glare of such ferociousness, Ambrosius finally gave in.

"Fine," the strange boy sighed in defeat. "I walked going here. I wanted to see the place where it was said the First King was buried. I arrived here before you did."

"So you mean to say that you saw the Great Barrow where the First King was buried?"

"Yes,"

"And?" Lyanna pressed more for more answer. "How was your visit? Did you test the door to the Great Barrow?"

"Yes,"

"And did you feel anything when you open the door?"

"No,"

"I see…" Lyanna said, disappointed. "They say you will turn into a corpse when you try to open the door."

"As you can see, I didn't turn into a corpse. The curse of the First King is not true." Ambrosius said.

"I know." She said sadly, knowing this first hand after she and Brandon had first visited the Great Barrow. She had tried the door of the Great Barrow. It had opened at her touch but there was nothing inside to see but a sarcophagus which was hard to slide open.

Old Nan had said to her once that the First King had put a curse on the Great Barrow to prevent any living man from rivaling the First King.

She had sorely hoped that the curse was real when she had arrived in Barrowton Hall, with the hopes of proving that magic existed. But how disappointed she had been when she realized that the curse of the First King was not true. That had been three weeks ago. After knowing that there was nothing magical about the Great Barrow, it had left Lyanna dejected for days.

She had often visited the grave of the First King just to test the door and see for herself, but nothing came out from her visits, only frustration which often resulted to her riding in the Rills for hours to forget the feeling.

"Do you need a ride going back?" Lyanna asked Ambrosius out of kindness, feeling a surge of pity upon realizing that the other boy had walked all the way to the Rills from Barrowton. "You must be tired after all that walking. My horse can support both of us on the way back to Barrowton if you like to ride with me."

"If milady doesn't mind me riding with her, why ever would I deny her the pleasure of my company?" the boy said smiling, amusement lighting up his eyes.

Lyanna scowled at his words. She wanted to smack that smile off his face.

"But I won't need to a ride all the way back to Barrowton. You can drop me off on the way. I'll tell you where…"

"Alright," Lyanna's brows knitted while she tried pulling Buckbeak's reins.

"How rude of me." Ambrosius said suddenly, walking closer towards her. "You know my name already while I have yet to ask yours. May I know your name, milady?"

"My name is Lyanna." She replied, forgoing to mention her family name like the other boy seemed to deliberately did with his name.

"It is an honor to meet you Lady Lyanna." The boy did an elegant bow, drawing Lyanna's eyes towards the pack he was carrying on his back. She glimpsed the color yellow and orange on the opening. It appeared that the boy had been carrying a pack of fruits.

 _Lemons and Oranges from White Harbor._ Lyanna thought.  _He must have been the one bringing those to Barrowton lately._

She blushed crimson when her stomach growled at the sight of the fruits. Suddenly remembering that she had forgotten to eat more that morning.

Ambrosius looked up at her and smiled.

"Do you want some blood oranges, milady?" the boy said all of a sudden, straightening up while pulling his pack in front of him. Lyanna neither deny or accept the offer, but kept silent while the boy took a blood orange from his pack.

"I can give you some as repayment for you giving me a ride." The boy handed the blood orange to her. Lyanna accepted the fruit mutely, her mouth watering at the thought of peeling the fruit and biting down on it.

"The fruits are from Braavos, but they are grown in Dorne. The merchant that Ser Haldon and I, whom we have sworn to protect, brought them here to trade in White Harbor and other Northern Houses." Ambrosius explained. "The blood orange is very sweet. I hope you will like the taste, milady."

"Thank you," Lyanna finally answered, stopping down her urge to hastily peel the fruit and take a bite. She was hungry. Yes. But she wasn't going to act on her hunger. She must first send Ambrosius to where he was meant to be. Her hunger could wait another few hours. Yet it seemed Ambrosius thought differently because he said to her.

"You must be very hungry milady after riding for so long. You can eat the fruit now if you want. Don't worry. I am in no hurry to be anywhere."

And like a hungry fool that she was, she took the bait and ate the blood orange in her hunger. With Ambrosius giving her more of the fruit to quench her hunger.

Later, as she was leading the horse back to Barrowton. She was glad that she followed the Eye of the Ice dragon or she would have ended up spending the night stuck with Ambrosius. Although her brother, Brandon, hadn't been too happy to discover that she had nearly lost her way.

Lyanna had dropped off Ambrosius on the way, and never know what happened to him afterward. She had only hoped that he had gotten back to White Harbor safely.

* * *

That night Lyanna dreamnt.

She dreamed of walking down the crypts of Winterfell, but something was different. The door she saw was the same door she had seen from the Great Barrow of the First King.

It was dark and cold down there, with the cold water up to her knees. There was no light there except for the torch she carried and from the glimmer of her sword on her right hand.

And when she opened the door to the lower level, Lyanna saw not a sarcophagus, but a man. His lower torso frozen to a well. With his hands chained above him and with a serpent dripping poison on top of his head. Every time the poison drip over the man, he would writhe in agony and screamed for help. His voice reverberating throughout the huge cavern.

"HELP ME!"

Lyanna had tried to free the man from his icy prison, but she woke up screaming instead when the snake attack her in her attempt.

* * *

* * *

**Chapter 7: Death is the Enemy**

* * *

 

"There are wards on the Wall. The white walkers could not enter so long as the wards stand." The three-eyed-raven informed Lyanna.

"How does the wards work?" She asked after a moment.

Bryden River's one, red eye did a slow blink before her mentor rasped out his answer. "It works through an ancient and binding magic…" he said, his voice rattling. "- Brandon the Builder built the Walls and its wards to withstand the onslaught of the Night King's power. However, it only grew its strength when Aegon the Conqueror established the holy order of the King's Guards. And through the holy vows spoken by the Kingsguards to protect those who sit the Iron Throne, and the Night's Watchs' vows to protect the realms of men…with the holy brothers combine binding vows, the wards on the wall remain strong. However, the wards will weaken and break if both the father and the son betray their vows."

"What do you mean by both the father and the son?" Lyanna asked.

"As I have told you before, child,  _the King_  is a powerful warg - a master skinchanger, who knows how to use his power to its full potential." The old man told her, "He can never die for he can live in a thousand skin, whether it is the skin of a beast, or possess the body of a man. His _Ghost_  can transfer and possess any form even when the King is beyond the Wall, for he has been using his power as a warg to don many disguises…he watches and has been waiting for the opportunity to bring down the wall, for his only goal is to have the rightful heir sit the Iron Throne…the one who possess the sword. Remember these words, child, ' _ **Winter is Coming**_ ,' and ' _ **Iron comes from Ice**_ ,' the Iron Throne does not belong to the line of the Dragonlords of Valyria, but belongs to the  _First King_ , the first smith and the warrior who forged  _the sword_. The King of the First Men, the Andals and the Rhoynar… The King who is also  _ **no one**_. The King's Ghost is so many that he has become a legion _._ He fights in the shadows, and even those he possesses does not know that he or she is being controlled and has become a pawn to his game of thrones."

"If he is so powerful, why hasn't he succeeded in his plan to take the Iron throne?"

"Because there are those who fight against him...who fights for the living…However, in truth, it took  _the King_  all these centuries to set his plans in motion because he has been waiting for you, my dear."

"Waiting for me?" Lyanna asked, troubled at the implication. "Why me?"

"Because he has foreseen what you will become." The three-eyed-raven said. "Because you have the power to change the tide of war."

"What can I do?"

"You are magical, dear child. You are more than a greenseer or a skinchanger...You can do something more."

"Like what?"

"Something the King wants for himself."

* * *

**276 AC**

"What are you doing, Lyanna?"

Startled, Lyanna almost dropped the thing that she has been brandishing around mid-air.

Her brother raised a brow at the sight of her holding a weirdwood branch, which almost look like she was holding a wand.

"Nothing." Lyanna responded hastily, putting both her hands behind her back and inwardly wincing at how lame her lie was.

"Really?" Ned's brow raised a fraction.

"Yes."

"You know, Lyanna…I can tell that you are lying." Her brother scolded, "Tell me honestly what you were doing… because it looks to me that you were practicing how to fight with a sword."

Caught redhanded, Lyanna swiftly grasped both her brother's hand and began imploring.

"Please don't tell father that you saw me, Ned." She said, gripping her brother's hand tightly. "I don't want him to know what I've been doing while I'm up here."

Ned must have followed her to the First Keep without her knowing and heard her practicing loudly in the Broken Tower. Even the ravens' cawing could not hide the noise she was making while she was lost in her own little world of fighting monsters in her mind.

Ned was frowning at her, his eyes full of censure, but after one look at Lyanna's pleading gaze, her brother finally relented.

"Alright, Lyanna." He said to her, sighing out loud. "I won't be telling father what I've seen here. However, you should probably try to find another place to practice, because I can hear you all the way down the entrance of the Keep."

"Thank you Ned!" Lyanna said lightly, finally letting go of her brother's hands.

For a moment there, she had been afraid that Ned would tell her father since she knew her brother was so honorable that Ned could not lie even if his life depended on it. However, it mustn't be in this case. Seeing her practicing probably wasn't much of a burden to bare in Ned's conscience if it means Lyanna learned how to protect herself.

"I know I was being noisy," she said as she began practicing with Ned watching her carefully. "-but I thought no one would notice me here since people are still too busy talking about the latest news from Kingslanding - about the birth of the second prince – and is it really true that father is going to attend the tourney at Lannisport in celebration for the prince birth?"

"Yes, Lyanna. It is true. It is for this reason father has called Brandon and I back from Barrowton and the Vale so that we can join him in the tourney at Lannisport. It will be the first tourney that we will be attending. I am certain Brandon wouldn't miss this opportunity to show off his skills in the list."

"Do you think father will let me go to the tourney too?"

"I do not know, Lyanna. You should ask father about it." Ned said uncertainly. "He'll probably want you to stay here with Benjen. Remember what father always tells us. 'There must always be a Stark in Winterfell', and Benjen is still too young to be left alone. You are needed here to watch over him and the entire household."

"I know…" Lyanna murmured softly, putting the weirdwood branch down. "I already know father won't let me go to the tourney, but I still wanted too though."

There was a moment of silence where Lyanna's excitement about the tourney was dampened by the fact that she wasn't allowed to go.

"Do you ever wonder why father always say that 'there must always be a Stark in Winterfell'?" Lyanna asked instead, changing the topic.

"No," came Ned's reply. "But if you listened to Old Nan stories, she tells the tale that it was to keep the monsters at bay, and to ward off those who are intent in stealing something from the crypts."

"There's always a grain of truth to Old Nan's tales." Lyanna told her brother, "I believe half of what she is saying."

"You shouldn't, Lyanna." Ned replied, "Her stories are merely childish fairytales... Do you remember the time she told us that there is a sleeping dragon living beneath Winterfell?"

"Yes, I do." She said, "There must be a dragon living beneath Winterfell for why else the water in the hotspring boils so hotly? It must be because of the dragon's breath."

"You and dragons." Ned shook his head and smiled. "You have always believe in dragons, even though Maester Walys has told us that they have all perished since the Dance."

"Mayhap the Maester is wrong, and not all of them died in the Dance of Dragons." Lyanna pointed out, "Mayhap some survive and live in secret."

"Mayhap, but we can't be certain of that until we see a real dragon…"

.

.

.

The courtyard rang to the sounds of steel against steel. A regal figure stood beneath the shade to observe the entire fight. His dark purple eyes narrowed in observation as his friend, Arthur Dayne slashed his blunted sword out in an incredible display of resolve and mastery against the master-at-arms, Ser Willem Darry. His friend was relentless in his lightning-quick slashes, which constantly slid past the older man's defenses and sent Willem Darry to his knees in a matter of a seconds in their third clash.

From this distance, Rhaegar could see his friend's stoic gaze when Arthur finally held up his sword against the kneeling man's throat.

"Yield," came his friend's gentle words but his face remained expressionless.

"I yield," the older knight said immediately, panting. His sword laying discarded on the ground. Willem Darry looked winded and worn out in his Kingsguard's armor with sweat dotting his brows. Rhaegar suppressed a grin at the sight. He had always been confident that his friend would win in the end.

"A great fight as always, Ser Arthur."

Rhaegar heard Willem Darry's compliment as his friend slowly helped the older man up.

"Thank you, Ser Willem."

Rhaegar stepped out from the shade and into the sunlight and began walking towards the two in the center of the courtyard. He could feel two of his Kingsguards – his shadows – following closely behind him.

This time it was Prince Lewyn Martell and Ser Oswell Whent who was guarding him under the orders of his father. The King had gotten more paranoid after the birth of his younger brother, Viserys, wherein Rhaegar couldn't utter a protest against his father's insistence to keep two guards with him at all times.

"You must be excited for the tourney in Lannisport," Ser Willem was saying when Rhaegar neared them.

Arthur noticed him immediately and made a show of greeting him formally.

"You grace," Arthur said, bowing shortly before straightening up. In the light, Arthur's eyes appeared to be a pale shade of blue instead of its usual purple coloring. His expression showed surprise at Rhaegar's sudden appearance

Willem Darry turned and saw Rhaegar as well.

"Your grace," the old man greeted and bowed lowly, and like Arthur, he was also surprise to see Rhaegar there. "Is there something you might require of us?"

"No, I'm just here to observe how my friend fairs with his fight against you, Ser Willem, since I've been informed by the others that the two of you could be found here." He said, nodding towards Prince Lewyn and Ser Oswell. "They informed me that you are training here in preparation for the tourney in Lannisport."

"Yes, your grace. Ser Arthur and I were training, but as you can see, my prince, Ser Arthur got the better of me." Willem Dary's admitted, "He's the Sword of the Morning for a reason…an admirable office to carry at his age."

Arthur Dayne was of the same age as Rhaegar, but his friend had obtained the title as the Sword of the Morning while at age of ten-and-three, while Rhaegar had only gotten interested in becoming a knight on that age.

Now, at the age of ten-and-six, Rhaegar was said to be on par with his friend, equal in standing with regards to martial prowess.

"True, but I'm more interested to see how Arthur fairs in a fight with me." Rhaegar said contemplatively. "I would like to see his progress in his training before I meet him on the list at Lannisport."

"I am honored, your grace, but are you certain that you would like to fight me?" came Arthur's question, his tone light. "I don't want to cause you any harm."

"I know you wouldn't harm me without reason, Arthur." Rhaegar said, picking up Ser Willem's blunted sword from the ground and began testing its weight. He signed for his guards – Prince Lewyn and Ser Oswell - to stand back and not interfere while Ser Willem moved to step out of his way.

"Now, face me like you would an enemy and don't hold back on my account." Rhaegar said to his friend, who responded with a glint of amusement in his purple eyes.

"As you command, your grace."

And like before, the courtyard rang to the song of swords as the two friends face each other.

.

.

.

 

As time passes by, Lyanna continued her lessons with the three-even-raven.

"The visions I showed you is a warning to you for what is to come. War is a horrible and terrible thing, yes, but is it nothing compared to the Twilight of the Gods, as they call it. You must find a way to stop it child. The  _End of all Things_  is almost upon us."

"How do I stop it when I don't even know who the true enemy is?" Lyanna said in mounting frustration. She really hated it when Bloodraven used cryptic words on her.

"My only advice for you, child, is  _don't let his eye fall upon you_."

"Whose eye?"

"The Eye of God..."

"There are many Gods. Who is the God you are referring to?"

"Dear one, there is only but one God…and his name is  _Death_. He is the God of Many-faces…and this final vision that I will show you, you will know who he is, for he has taken you for his wife."

Without warning, Lyanna was transported into another vision. This time it showed her of a man holding a babe in his arm. A man who belonged to the Order of the Kingsguard.

However, Lyanna saw something else as well. Behind the White Knight stood a huge, dark shadow with three wings like that of a bat.

"Who is he?" Lyanna whispered while a shiver of fear raced down her spine as she saw the shadowy figure's glowing pale blue eyes.

"You will know him soon enough. But that knight has been influence like so many others. The shadow behind him is the enemy, who can influence any man he wants, even such an honorable man of the Kingsguard… And as I have said before, he is only a man by day, but by night, when the  _end begins_ , it is his to rule. You may have heard of him before because he comes from your world as well. I believe so now…You may know of him as a true dragon, a fallen watcher, and the devil. He is also a trickster, a mischievous entity who can skinchange. He goes by many names in your world, I am sure, but in this world…He is a dying and rising God, he can never be killed in this world, but this world, too, has also become his prison...This Great Other also thinks of himself as the First King of the First Men, the Andals and the Rhoynar, and all the human races…But most of all, he call himself the light bringer of the world. However, to you and I, Lyanna Stark, he is Death, and the Dragon with Three Heads."

**SATAN IN DANTE'S INFERNO (LUCIFER HAS THREE HEADS)**

* * *

" **And now it begins,"**   **said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.**

 **"No," Ned said with sadness in his voice,** **"now it ends. "** **As they came together in a rush of steel and shadow, he could hear Lyanna screaming. "** _**Eddard!** _ **" she called. A storm of rose petals blew across a blood-streaked sky,** **as blue as the eyes of death.**  "

- _A Game of Thrones_ , Chapter 39, Eddard X.

* * *

 **Information from Wikipedia:**  This Bible version took the word from the Latin Vulgate,[4] which translated הֵילֵל by the Latin word  _lucifer_  (uncapitalized),[5][6] meaning "the morning star, the planet Venus", or, as an adjective, "light-bringing"

*The term appears in the context of an oracle against a dead king of Babylon,[29] who is addressed as הילל בן שחר ( _Hêlêl ben Šāḥar_ ),[30][31] rendered by the King James Version as "O Lucifer, son of the morning!" and by others as "morning star, son of the dawn".

* In Latin, the word is applied to John the Baptist and is used as a title of Jesus himself in several early Christian hymns. The morning hymn  _Lucis largitor splendide_ of Hilary contains the line: " _Tu verus mundi lucifer_ " (you are the true light bringer of the world)

* In a modern translation from the original Hebrew, the passage in which the phrase "Lucifer" or "morning star" occurs begins with the statement:

_"How you have fallen from heaven, morning star, son of the dawn! You have been cast down to the earth, you who once laid low the nations! You said in your heart, 'I will ascend to the heavens; I will raise my throne above the stars of God; I will sit enthroned on the mount of assembly, on the utmost heights of Mount Zaphon. I will ascend above the tops of the clouds; I will make myself like the Most High.' But you are brought down to the realm of the dead, to the depths of the pit. Those who see you stare at you, they ponder your fate: 'Is this the man who shook the earth and made kingdoms tremble, the man who made the world a wilderness, who overthrew its cities and would not let his captives go home?'"_

**In short, Lucifer means Lightbringer. In a Song of Ice and Fire, it is the sword of Azor Ahai.**

 

 


	2. The Deathly Hallows

 

* * *

 

"But before I leave you at peace with your dreams, dear child." Brynden Rivers said, "Let me show you one last vision."

Once more, Lyanna was transported into another scene. This time Lyanna could see three white knights standing outside a tower and seven others standing opposite them, and they seemed to be preparing for a fight.

As she scrutinized each of them, she suddenly recognized one of the knight. It was her brother, Ned, who appeared to be the leader of the group opposing the three King's Guards.

"What are they doing?" she asked, both curious and worried at the same time. She was concerned about Ned's welfare after all, even though this was only a vision of another morrow.

"Just listen to them speak, child." The three-eyed-raven said, "This will be brief."

 _"I came down on_ _Storm's End_ _to lift the siege,"_ Ned said to the three King's Guards _., "And the Lords_ _Tyrell_ _and_ _Redwyne_ _dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them."_

 _"Our knees do not bend easily,"_ said the knight carrying a two-handed long sword. He had dark hair and purple eyes and looked taller than the other men. If she were any older, Lyanna might even consider him handsome.

Then, the vision seemed to still. Lyanna's eyes remained focus on the purple-eyed knight who stood proudly between the other two King's Guards.

"What can you say about him, child?"

"He says something like a wildling would." She said as she continued to appraised the White Knight, taking note of his sun-kissed skin and his strong, masculine features. "Wildlings doesn't kneel to anyone."

"Yes, and what else?"

"The knight has too much  _Pride_ in him."

"True, and Pride is a sin in a knight such as him." The three-eyed-raven said, "When a King's Guard takes his holy oath, he must always remember to let go of the deadly sins that would weaken him in the eyes of the Seven, Pride most of all. And as a Warrior, he must know this too."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because the knight's pride will be his downfall, as well as his salvation."

"Who is he? Why are you showing him to me?"

"Because I want to show you the man who will bring your Death. He may look like any other man by day, but he is not. The knight's name is Ser Arthur Dayne, and he is the person you must avoid at all cause."

After hearing him say that, Lyanna woke up with a gasp and with her heart thundering wildly against her chest.

…

..

.

Harry James Potter was one-and-ten when he started to remember vague memories of his past. It began when she was riding at the Rills with Buckbeak that she had flashes of images bursting into her mind which nearly resulted to her almost falling off her horse.

In that moment, she saw memories of a young boy flying with an eagle-like creature over a lake and shouting at the top of his lungs in exhilaration.

At first, she didn't know who the boy was, or what he meant to her, not until the end of the day when she began to remember the face she wore in her past life.

It was him.

Harry James Potter.

A student of Hogwarts, and afterward, the Head of the Magical Law Enforcement.

An Auror who had a wife and a son.

It was a wake-up call to Harry which left him quite distraught upon realizing that he had died and was now living as Lyanna Stark.

And since that day, the memories continued to intrude into Lyanna Stark's present life, and bit by bit, she started to regain her – his true identity as the years passed by.

Even his magic.

* * *

**280 AC**

"Lumos," Lyanna muttered and watched as the tip of her weirdwood wand burst into light.

"It's working!" She whispered excitedly to the raven perched at the foot of her bed. "With this weirdwood branch that the Children of the Forest carved. I think I can reproduce every spell-casting I learned from my past life! Thank you so much for bringing it to me, Brynden!"

In response, the raven merely nodded its head and cawed loudly, flapping it black wings to show that it understood.

"One day, I will come visit you Beyond-the-Wall," Lyanna promised, "You've done so much for me since I began to remember who I am. At the very least, let me give you something in return."

But of course, the raven's answer was to shake its head and fly out the window.

Later that night, the three-eyed-raven visited her in her dreams.

"You need not worry about giving me something in repayment, Lyanna." He told her as they stood in front of the black door where Lyanna could see the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.

"But you've been helping me for so long, and I haven't even done anything for you." Lyanna said to him, a frown marring her brows. "I don't even know your birthday."

The three-eyed-raven simply laughed at her last comment.

"It's what I do, Lyanna. I guide those who needed guidance, and watching you grow and discover your identity, and finally, your power in accordance to the plan that we have set for the future of the world, is enough of a repayment for me... In your world, you mentioned about businesses."

"Yes,"

"Then, in other words, if I were a business man, then you are my investment. I invest upon your growth."

Lyanna was amused by Brynden's modern analogy. She should have known that the old man's mind was still sharp that he seemed to remember every little things she told him about his past life.

"Why did you bring me back here?" She asked, going back to the topic at hand as she looked at the black door with the flashing symbol of the Deathly Hollows.

"I brought you here because I finally know what is inside that locked door." The three-eyed-raven whispered in the wind.

"What's in there?"

"All the three Deathly Hallows you mentioned are there."

Lyanna's heart began to beat erratically against her chest after hearing the three-eyed-raven's words.

"But it's lock." She said, "How do I unlock it?"

"You must find the key, Lyanna."

"But I don't know where it is."

"The Door is inside your mind, Lyanna Stark. The only way to find the key is by searching through yourself. And once you find it, I believe, you may be able to access the power of all the three Hallows. As both Lyanna Stark and Harry Potter, you could be an unstoppable force to behold with that kind of power... Hence, you must find it, child. Before we are too late. Remember the wars to come."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Your reviews fuels my passion for writing so please don't hesitate to tell me what you think! If you want to see the aesthetics, story trailer and photoshopped edits that I made for the story please check out my twitter, facebook pinterest, youtube or tumblr account. But you can always contact me on twitter, facebook or tumblr so please don't be a stranger and let us be friends!


	3. Interlude: The New Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wherein Lyanna Stark prevents Robert's Rebellion and the destruction of the Targaryen House by making the right choice

 

Lyanna began practicing the spells she has used in her past life, but the wand couldn't produce a strong spell such as Protego Totallum, Expecto Patronum and even Diffindo, and other complicated spells. However, she had tried using the spells Lumos, Expelliarmus, Petrificus Totalus, Alohomora and Wingardium Leviosa, and all work just fine.

Still, Lyanna needed a different wand that could reproduce those powerful spells she had used before when she was working as an Auror.

"I needed a magical core for the wand." Lyanna told Bryden that very night when she realized what was lacking in her wand.

"How about the hair of a Direwolf?" Bryden suggested immediately, already knowing what a wand core was. "I think it would be fitting for you considering you are of the House Stark."

"Let's try it." She replied after a moment of consideration.

.

The following days, Bryden communicated to her through dreams about the progress of the second wand the Children of the Forest was making for her.

"It will probably take another three days before the wand is ready, Lyanna." Bryden said to her.

In the meantime, Lyanna kept sneaking into the Godswood to train some more. She wanted to regain back her strength and improve on the new skills she had acquired in this life.

However, three days later, her new wand arrived.

Two ravens had to carry the load and when Lyanna opened the leaf wrappings around the wand, she was quite impressed at the lengths that the Children of the Forest had gone to carve the wand. The weirwood wand was bone white with elaborate leaf and vine carvings, which was colored in red. Meanwhile, the handle was wrapped with some kind of fur-material, probably from a Direwolf.

The wand was simply beautiful and especially light when carried.

During the night, the three-eyed-raven told her that the wand not only contain the hair of a Direwolf, but a hair of giant and from Leaf, a Children of the Forest. Since giants and Children of the Forest were considered magical creatures here in Westeros, Lyanna hoped that the combine hair strands of the three magical creatures would serve as a conduit for magic, which she could redirect her magic through.

The next day, she tested the wand in the Wolfswood and she soon discovered that the wand worked better than she expected.

It was even more powerful than her wand in her previous life.

.

The Tourney of Harrenhall is drawing near, and Lyanna continued on with her spell casting practices. More than that, she had also honed her sword-fighting and archery skills with the help of her brothers, who were willing to cover up for her every time Lyanna's father keep noticing her absence in Old Nan's classes.

"To avoid your fate, and to save your future, the only thing you must do is ** _not_**  to attend the Tourney at Harrenhall." Bryden had said to her a week before the Tourney. "If you don't attend the Tourney, neither the Dragon Prince or the Sword of the Morning are able to meet you, for they are one of the many that you must avoid."

"Who else should I avoid?"

"I can't tell…but it would be legions. Your enemy has legions under his influence."

There was a moment of silence as Lyanna mulled the old man's words.

"Do you know the song about Six Maids in the Pool?" the three-eyed-raven suddenly asked.

"Yes," She replied.

"Then, you must know that the song is a prophecy."

"Yes, I've been told by a washerwoman a long time ago that the story is about Florian the Pervert who sees Jonquil bathing naked in the lake."

The three-eyed-raven laughed at her words. "Yes, Florian was a Fool who could not resist such tempting maiden bathing in the lake."

"But do you want to know what truly occurred in the story of Florian and Jonquil?"

Lyanna had to be honest with herself, she knew that the song was about her. Since she had gotten used to bathing in the hot spring naked outside in the open without feeling conscious or shame. The southron lords, however, mustn't view the same thing.

"I think I can guess what happened, Bryden. No need to tell me that the song is about me drawing the attention of the Dark God."

"You are correct. The song is the prophecy about you, Lyanna, and I hope you shan't go to the Tourney to avoid the wars to come."

"If the entire world is at stake here, then it's been decided, I shan't go to the Tourney." She said in determination.

"And stop bathing out in the open as well, Lyanna." The three-eyed-raven said in a serious tone.

Lyanna turned scarlet and replied, "That too."

.

Before they were about to leave for the Tourney at Harenhall, Lyanna cast a spell on herself to make herself sick, where she then started vomiting and having chills.

"What's wrong with her Maester?"

Lyanna heard her father asked as she lay in her bed, appearing sick.

"I do not know yet, my Lord, perhaps after I have observe her for a couple of days, I may be able to find the cause of the lady's sickness."

"Will she be able to come to us to the Tourney at Harrenhall, do you think?" Her Lord father inquired the Maester.

"Based on her current condition, I advise you against bringing her to the Tourney, my Lord. She might very well die if she travels that far south."

"I see." Her lord father said, "Then, we will be leaving for the Tourney without her on the morrow."

"That would the best, my Lord."

.

.

"It work," Lyanna told the three-eyed-raven that same night. "My father has left for the Tourney without me."

"Good," Bryden said, "Now, we must plan for the new future ahead of us."

"What will I do next?"

"What I want you to do is to make sure Prince Rhaegar Targaryen sit the Iron Throne before his Mad father will make a move to have him killed. However, I will give you a moon turn from now to prepare yourself for your next task."

"Why do I need preparation for?" Lyanna asked warily.

"Because I have foreseen the future where you are going to kill the Mad King, Lyanna Stark. I will show you the reason why you must kill King Aerys I Targaryen."


	4. The Betrothal and the Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wherein Lyanna sets her plans in motion in killing the Mad King

**280 AC – After the Tourney at Harrenhall**

"Father, please…" Lyanna pleaded as she stood before her father. "I don't want to marry a man that I hardly know."

"You must, Lyanna." Her Lord father said, folding his hands in front of his desk. "The betrothal has been formalized already. Both Lord Steffon Baratheon and I have agreed upon it. You no longer have no say on the matter."

"But – "

"No more, Lyanna!" Her father interrupted before she could convince him otherwise. "Robert Baratheon is now your betrothed and you must accept the fact."

Lyanna simply bit her lip while a great lump has gathered in her throat. She was terribly upset. True. However, she wasn't going to cry about her current predicament like a child.

"I understand, father." She said, sounding meek, but deep down she was already trying to find a solution to her problem. "I apologize father if I seem so… _annoyingly_   _persistent._ I only want to have a choice when it comes to my marriage, especially choosing a husband whom I love. But it seems that it is out of my hand."

"Dear child, you are of noble birth, and not some common tavern girl who has more freedom to choose whom she loves and marry. Most girls your age and station doesn't have a choice in husbands, Lyanna. Forming alliances amongst great Houses has become common and important than love for us nobility. Do you not see what I intend to do with this betrothal?"

"I do see it, father, but I still don't understand why you choose to use me as a sacrificial lamb to forge an alliance with the Baratheon House."

"I choose to betrothed you to Lord Robert because you are my only daughter, and Lord Robert Baratheon has express interest in you."

"I haven't even met the man yet. Why would he want to marry me?" She asked in confusion.

"Perhaps your brother Ned has to be blame for that. Ned has probably spoken of you to Lord Robert."

She already suspected it after Ned had become close friends with Robert Baratheon during his years in the Vale as a ward to Lord Jon Arryn. However, hearing it from her father was the confirmation that she didn't want to hear.

"Well, I have no desire to marry him at all." Lyanna stated determinedly.

Her father let out a sigh at her statement before he said to her, "Nothing can persuade me to withdraw the betrothal, Lyanna. So you better accept your fate."

Lyanna pursed her lips and looked at her father contemplatively.

"Alright, father." She said after a short while, pretending to look dejected, but inwardly she hadn't given up yet. "I'll accept the betrothal."

That was a lie of course, but her father didn't need to know that.

"Good," was Rickard Stark's response. "As you should."

There was a pause as the two regarded each other in tensed silence.

"May I be dismissed then?" Lyanna asked.

Lord Rickard Stark stared at her with his cool grey eyes before nodding his head.

Lyanna curtsied and then left her father's solar.

She instantly headed back to her room, where she proceeded to lie down in bed to contact the three-eyed-raven for advice about this latest development.

It didn't take long for Lyanna to drift off into a trance-like state as she made contact with the old man.

"I assume that you already know the news," She asked the moment she made the connection as she lay comfortably in bed.

The three-eyed-raven's response was immediate.

"Yes, I do." He said to her in that familiar whispering voice.

"Then, what is your advice on the matter?" She inquired. "Should I let my father marry me off to the Baratheon oaf?"

"The choice is really up to you, child." The old man said, "However, I have already foreseen a path set for you."

"What path?"

"A path you already know may lead to your accomplishment of the task."

"Stop being cryptic and tell me what you mean, old man." She said in an exasperated voice.

"You already know what you need to do to have your betrothal withdrawn." He told her, "I believe you know a certain kind of magic to persuade a person."

It did crosses Lyanna's mind, but she had no heart to use it on her unsuspecting father.

"You mean the Imperius Curse," she said in a quiet voice.

"Yes," came the old man's response.

"But I don't want to use it on my father," Lyanna stated, looking outrage at the thought.

"I'm not speaking of your father, dear child." The three-eyed-raven remarked. "I'm speaking of someone else that you need to use the Imperius curse on."

"Who then?"

"Robert Baratheon."

"You know, Brynden," she began slowly, appearing perplexed. "I can hardly use the Imperius curse on a person who lives a thousand of leagues away."

"You need not worry about that child, for I have foreseen Lord Robert coming to Winterfell a few moons from now."

"Oh, why is he coming here for?" Lyanna asked.

"I believe his reason is to meet you, Lyanna Stark."

"I see," she muttered. "When he comes here, then I can use the Imperius curse on him to change his mind about the betrothal."

Then, she lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

"I sense that you seem averse to the idea of using the spell on him," came the three-eyed-raven's remark.

"I do," She admitted, "But if that's the only way for me to break my betrothal, then I will do it."

"There's always another option, dear child."

"What's the other option?" She inquired, frowning.

"You can always run away from home and be free of this engagement."

"And then where do I go?"

"To Kingslanding, where you may be able to change the future greatly."

"Let me think about it," She told him after a while, "It won't be easy for me to leave my family behind and make them worry."

"I understand, Lyanna." The three-eyed-raven said, "Family is important to you, but I hope you will soon see that the world is at stake here too, and it all depends on your choice."

"I know…and I'm going to try my best to make the right choices," She replied, "But I don't see that leaving my family is the right choice at this time."

"You will see soon enough. A few moons from now, that choice will be taken from you." The old man said cryptically.

At his foreboding words, Lyanna became concerned.

"How?" came her demand. "How will it be taken from me?"

"I will not say anything more on the matter. All I can say is that you will soon have no choice but to leave your home a few moons from now." Her mentor said evasively.

"But –" she began to say but the three-eyed-raven stopped her.

"Lyanna, let us change the subject and discuss more of your plans to kill the Mad King."

Lyanna let out an aggravated sound but complied nonetheless.

"So tell me what you have decided to do," came the old man's remark.

"Yes, I've decided that I will cast an illusion on a straw dummy to make my family and the rest of Winterfell see that I have acquired some contagious illness. An illness where I shall be bedridden for the rest of the week."

"That's a good idea, and I have also foreseen that you will use a spell to cast on your room. It is some kind of spell to ward off other people except the Maester, who needs to tend to you while you are 'ill'."

"The spell is called an anti-muggle ward, but I can make some adjustment to it and allow the Maester to enter my room while I'm 'sick'." She replied, "But I will also add a strong notice-me-not charm on the straw dummy as an extra precaution to keep people from noticing something amiss."

"Good, then you will have a full week to do what you must and change everything in the allotted time."

"Yes," she responded, "And will it really take me more than a day to travel to Kingslanding?"

"Yes, travelling to Kingslanding will take you four days if you travel like an ordinary person. However, since you will be using magic to help you – and with me as your guide - I think it will take you two days and a half for you to reach the Capital."

"That much of a difference, huh?" She remarked, "I think I will be using the notice-me-not charm on myself to ward off bandits on the road, and prevent unwanted attention from the unsavory sorts."

"And perhaps another spell to speed up your horse," was the old man's suggestion. "Although you will need to change horses once you reach the Neck. We can't really use one horse for such long-distance journey."

"Alright."

There's another pause as the two continued to scheme.

"Do you have any more questions for me, Lyanna?" the three-eyed-raven inquired shortly.

"Yes, I do indeed."

"Ask away, child."

"Will I be able to come back in time before the week is done?" came her worried query.

"Yes, you will be able to come back home even before five days has passed."

"Have you foreseen anything that could happen to my family while I leave for a short while?"

"You need not worry, Lyanna Stark. Your family will be safe while you leave to do your mission." Brynden Rivers assured her.

Lyanna sighed in relief.

"Thank you for telling me that," She said.

"You are very welcome, but are you certain you are ready to kill the Mad King within three days?"

"Yes, I think I'm ready to kill the Mad King." She said, trying to sound confident, but failing.

"Lyanna, stop doubting yourself. I have already foreseen you do the deed. I know what happens when you reach the Capital."

"What happens to me in the Capital then?"

"If I tell you, it won't happen at all." The old man replied. "And remember Lyanna Stark, you must avoid being seen by any members of the court. Cast an illusion on yourself if you must."

"I will do that once I sneak into the Red Keep."

"Good," the three-eyed raven said, "Now, that we are done planning, perhaps it's time for me to rest for a while."

"Alright," Lyanna agreed, noticing the tiredness in the old man's voice. "I will speak to you another day, Brynden. You have a good rest."

"Thank you, Lyanna." Brynden Rivers responded, "I will see you after three days."

Afterward, the connection broke off and Lyanna became aware of her surroundings once more.

"I think I will start packing," She muttered underneath her breath as she stood up from her bed and moved towards her dresser.

She opened her dresser and took out a small shabby pack which was transformed after she had casted an undetectable extension charm on it.

She then began to mentally list down the things she needed to bring.

 _I need seven days' worth of food, some clothes and perhaps a med-aid kit in case I become injured on my mission, plus a sword for my defense._ She thought as she looked into her dresser for clothes. She then realized that she only had dresses in there.

 _I think I will have to steal some clothes from Ned._  She decided. Thankfully, her brother is still in the Vale that he won't notice that some of his clothes will be missing for a week.

* * *

"Are you nervous?" the three-eyed-raven asked her the night before she leaves.

"A little bit," Lyanna said.

"You should not be, child." The old man said, "For I have foreseen your future unfold and I assure you that your mission will be successful."

"Well, I can't help it." She expressed defensively, "Not when I'm about to go against the most protected man in all the Seven Kingdoms."

"If you are worried about facing the Kingsguards, then your fears are unfounded." Her mentor said, "You have magic that can help you sneak through the protective circle of the White brotherhood. You should use those spells to your advantage."

"If you say so, Brynden." She said. "But I've always wondered why you didn't tell me to kill the Mad King during the Tourney at Harrenhall. That would have been the perfect timing."

"There were too many variables during that time, child." The ancient man said, "I can't risk you taking a misstep in the presence of too many Lords and Ladies of the realm, especially when our true enemy could be watching through their eyes."

"I see."

"That is the reason I have asked you to go to this mission after the Tourney instead. It is much safer for you."

"I don't see anything safe about killing a King at all," she pointed out.

"Well, it's not safe to be exact," the old man digressed, "But it's much preferable compared to the future that I have foreseen after you went to the Tourney."

"What have you seen then?"

"Your habit for bathing naked in a hot spring might have ended the world for us. It is due to your loveliness that had completely ensnared our enemy's eyes on you."

"This is not the time for jest, Brynden." She reprimanded him.

"Might I remind you of the prophetic song 'Six Maids in the Pool'?"

At his statement, Lyanna decided to end the discussion right then and there.

"Alright! I trust your word for it!" she exclaimed and left it at that.

* * *

"It's called Dragon Pox, my Lord."

Lyanna listened to the Maester say to her Lord father while the two men stood over her bed. With the anti-muggle ward not in placed yet, her Lord father was still able to enter her room.

Meanwhile, Lyanna stood in the corner of her bedroom after she had cast a disillusionment charm on herself while she listened to the Maester speak to her Lord father.

"I have never heard of this illness before." Her Lord father remarked while he stared at the straw dummy, which Lyanna had transformed into a remarkable likeness of herself and casted a strong illusion on it to make people believe that it was her lying down on the bed.

"The illness is newly discovered, my lord." Maester Walys said.

That wasn't true of course because Lyanna had cast an Imperius curse on the Maester to make him believe and say that. Until now, she still felt guilty for using the curse on the Maester. However, not as much as before after she found out that it was because of Maester Waly and Lord Steffon Baratheon's Maester – Maester Cressen – who have convinced both Lords to betrothed her to Lord Robert Baratheon in the first place. As to what their motivations were, Lyanna could only guess.

"However, there are rare cases that has been recorded in the Citadel during the reign of Jaehaerys II Targaryen about the illness." The Maester informed Lord Rickard Stark. "Her ladyship's symptoms point out that she has the contagious illness, my Lord. Her greenish skin and purple pock-marks are only a few indication of the illness."

"Is it curable?" Lyanna's father asked worriedly.

"I can't say for sure," the Maester admitted uncertainly, "However, I hear that sometimes the symptoms disappear within a week's time."

"That is good to hear," came her father's comment as he continued to gaze at the dummy with concern eyes. "Will those pock-marks leave a scar on my daughter?"

"Unfortunately, yes, my lord. Your daughter's beauty will be marred by purple blemishes on her skin once she heals."

"I had hope that doesn't happen at all," came his father's sad response. "Lyanna has always been of great beauty, like her mother. Now, I don't know what to say to Lord Robert once he comes for a visit a moons turn away. I am certain he will be disappointed once he sees her."

Lyanna scowled at her father's words.

"Let us not worry about that yet, my lord. There's still a great chance that Lady Lyanna will be left unscarred." The Maester encouraged. "However, the illness is still quite contagious at this stage. Hence, it's probably best to warn the others not to enter the Lady's room."

"I understand, Maester Walys." Rickard Stark replied, "I will warn the rest of my family about what has befallen on my daughter. And in the meantime, you take care of her."

"I will, my Lord. I will take care of your daughter and hope that she heals within the week."

"I will leave her to you then, Maester Walys." Her Lord Father said before he pivoted around and left the room.

Lyanna let out a sigh of relief when it dawned on her that her plan worked again.

It seemed like being constantly ill allowed her to do anything she wanted with her time.

.

.

.

That same day, Lyanna Stark strolled into the stables and stole a horse without being noticed by anyone due to the strong notice-me-not charm she cast on herself.

Sooner than she would expect, she rode out of Winterfell and headed towards Kingslanding with a swiftness that truly surprise her in how easy it was to leave her home.

She looked back and saw Winterfell getting smaller as she rode onwards.

"I'll be back," she whispered to the wind and heard a squawking sound above her, which indicated that the three-eyed-raven heard her statement.

The raven flew ahead of her to lead the way to the Capital. Lyanna knew that it would take a few days to reach her destination so she could only hope that her journey would remain uneventful during that time.

In a few days, she would arrive at Kingslanding and kill the King, even perhaps meet the Prince and the White Knight of whom the three-eyed-raven had talked and warned her so much about.She could only hope that she would still have the strength after a long journey to finish her mission.


	5. The Blood-Boiling Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wherein Lyanna Stark cast the killing blow upon the King of the Seven Kingdoms

"Are you truly averse in using the killing curse on the Mad King?" was the three-eyed-raven's question a day before Lyanna was set to arrive in King's Landing.

"To be honest, in my previous life, I have never considered using it," came Lyanna's answer.

"Well, if you do not intend to use the killing curse. Perhaps a dark curse cast upon the King will suffice."

"Yes, you are quite right. I have no other choice, but to use  _that_  curse." She agrees. "A terrible curse that causes a fatal condition on the person."

"What kind of condition is it?" The three-eyed-raven asked.

"It's a condition that causes the person's blood to boil, which results to the impending death of the person cursed with it. The person will suffer a slow but painful death of burning alive from the inside."

"A curse fitting for the Mad King," came the three-eyed-raven's remark. "It's only just that he burns, like he has done to many people during his reign."

"Yes, a fitting end for the Mad King, whose House words are ' _Fire and Blood'_." She says, "The King will experience what it is like to burn alive with fire in his blood...And despite my misgiving in using the curse, it is necessary for the King to die after you have shown me what he will do if his reign continues..."

.

.

.

Lyanna arrived in King's Landing without a hitch. Her spells that she had cast upon herself and her horse had contributed to her success in traveling without being notice by anyone, and added to the fact was that the three-eyed-raven had been a great guide.

"I need to get inside the Red Keep," She muttered as she road through the crowded streets of King's Landing.

At her words, the black raven flew ahead of her and Lyanna followed after it as best as she could through the sea of people.

.

Hidden in disguise, Lyanna Stark entered the Red Keep without being noticed by anyone. With the use of anti-muggle spell and notice-me-not charm on her, she is able to walk through the front gate without being questioned by the guards.

Now, with the black raven still leading the way, she heads towards the Throne Room, where she knew the King was going to be.

She passed by some people along the way but she was ignored by most of them. Her spells was so strong and effective that she appeared to be invisible to those around her.

Thus, in no time, Lyanna arrived at the entrance to the Throne Room.

"This is it," She muttered to herself as she slowly pushed the door open.

The moment she entered the Throne Room, her gaze instantly fell upon the man who sat on the enormous Iron Throne.

King Aerys Targaryen was a pitiful sight to behold. He looked half-starved and was only wearing in what appeared to be his nightgown. He had a tangle of silver-white hair which fell at his shoulders. His pale, gaunt face and his long gnarly fingernails were the next thing Lyanna noticed on top of the other things that appeared seemingly wrong about the King.

Then, Lyanna's eyes surveyed the rest of the people in the room. She soon realized that there were only a few of them there. Other than the two Kingsguards she could see stationed at the foot of the stairs of the throne, Lyanna could also see a servant lurking near a brazier with a torch in hand, a man in a robe standing close to a column, and two men kneeling on the floor with their wrists wrapped in chains.

 _They are prisoners,_  She inwardly guessed as she inspected the two men in chains.  _Perhaps even criminals._

"I have no room for petty criminals in my Kingdom!" The King was saying. His voice echoed around the vast room. "Henceforth, I shall have these criminals burn alive as punishment for their crimes!"

Afterward, the Mad King suddenly burst into a maniacal laughter.

"I want these criminals burn alive!" The King declared as he gazed at the cowering men in front of him. "I want them to burn at once!"

Lyanna Stark could only stand there for a moment, looking stunned at the state of the Mad King. However, upon realizing what she was doing, Lyanna began to move.

 _Not a moment to waste,_  She thought determinedly as she started to walk forward.

"Yes, your grace. We will do as you say at once."

Lyanna heard the man in the robe say while she made her way towards the Mad King who was now snickering loudly.

The man in a robe - probably the Alchemist that Brynden had told her about - must have already expected what the Mad King would say because Lyanna suddenly saw the man brought out a glass container of green liquid.

 _That's wildfire_. She thought worriedly. She watched as the Alchemist turned his attention towards the two men in chains and she knew at once what the man was about to do.

"Bring me the torch!" The Alchemist called out and the servant, who had been waiting in the corner, ran forward with a flaming torch in hand.

"NO, NO! PLEASE DON'T!" One of the prisoners cried out as the Alchemist opened the stopper of the glass containing the wildfire liquid. "NO! PLEASE HAVE MERCY!"

 _Shit!_ Lyanna mentally cursed as she started to run.

The Alchemist raised the wildfire container and was about to throw the wildfire liquid at the two prisoners, when Lyanna raise her wand and cried out, " _ **Finestra!"**_

At once, a yellow light burst from her weirwood wand and straight for the glass container. As the spell made contact, the glass instantly shattered and the wildfire oil containing it went bursting out from the broken glass and came splattering harmlessly to the ground.

"What in Seven's Hell?!" She heard the Alchemist yell in shock.

"What?!" The Mad King exclaimed as he suddenly stood up from his throne. "What just happened?!"

"I don't know, your grace," came the Alchemist's immediate reply, appearing puzzled. "The glass just broke, which is simply impossible."

Meanwhile, Lyanna hadn't stopped running and was nearing the King when she nearly tripped on her toes. She stumbled but soon righted herself on time.

"But how?!" King Aerys demanded, still oblivious to the fact that a certain Stark was making her way up the steps of the Iron Throne.

"I saw a yellow light hitting it before it suddenly broke, your grace," was the Alchemist's explanation.

"I don't really care what you saw! All I want is for these prisoners to burn right this moment!" the King screamed and Lyanna tried hard not to flinch back at the loudness of his voice.

She had ran passed through the two Kingsguards at the foot of the stairs and she was now raising her wand towards the King, when the Alchemist replied.

"I apologize, your grace. I will immediately fetch for another bottle of wildfire." The Alchemist said, in the same instance that Lyanna uttered the Blood-boiling curse.

" _ **Ferveret Sanguis,**_ " She said while she aimed her wand at the Mad King.

A pink light promptly shot out from her wand and hit the King squarely in the chest, who seemed to stumble back.

"What the - ?!" the King said in surprise as he touched his chest. A confused frown gracing his wild features.

"Are you alright, your grace?" the Alchemist asked in concern.

However, it didn't take long for Lyanna's curse to finally take effect, because without warning, the King's knees buckled beneath him. His face contorted in pain, his skin turned bright pink, and lumps started appearing on the surface of his body, like he was being boiled alive.

"AARRGGGHHH!" King Aerys howled as he suddenly fell forward and Lyanna took a step back in time before the King could fall on top of her.

She simply watched as the King tumbled down from his Iron throne and straight down the steps.

"YOUR GRACE!" The two Kingsguards stationed at the foot of the steps instantly ran forward to help the King.

They caught him before the King fell further down the steps. Nevertheless, that's not the only reason that they need to worry about because the moment the two Kingsguards saw the state of the King, they instantly called for assistance.

"SOMEONE FETCH THE MAESTER!" One of the Kingsguard shouted as soon as they noticed the King's horrific condition. Blood was oozing from the King's pores and each and every orifice of his while the King continued to gasp and scream, "AARRGGHHH!"

King Aerys Targaryen was obviously in so much pain that he could no longer articulate out any of his thoughts. He could only scream instead.

Lyanna watched them for a moment before she finally decided to leave from there.

Afraid of being discovered despite her extra precaution, she slowly climbed down the stairs and straight for the door of the Throne Room.

She walked away without looking back, not even when she heard the King's screams turned all the more agonizing.

Lyanna Stark simply strode away like she hadn't just cast a fatal curse upon the King of the Seven Kingdoms.

.

.

.

After she was sure that she was a distance away from the scene of crime, Lyanna hastily collapsed against a wall somewhere in the Red Keep. Her magic wavering without her knowledge as she realized the gravity of what she had done.

"I think I just fucked things up," She whispered to herself as she closed her eyes in guilt of what she had done.

She didn't care about killing the King. The King deserved to die, but it didn't stop Lyanna Stark from feeling guilty for using dark magic on a person.

The reason she had chosen the Blood-boiling curse was because she could never forgive herself if she used the killing curse; the killing curse that Voldemort often used in her previous life.

"I hope the spell works fast," She said out loud, still with her eyes close. "I hope he doesn't suffer as much as I expect."

"And who are you speaking of, my lady?" a soft voice suddenly said and Lyanna's eyes flew open to look at the person who had spoken.

The moment she saw him, she immediately paled. In a flash, she was on her feet and with her wand pointing towards the man in front of her.

The shadow grew and lengthened around her and Lyanna Stark finally understood what it meant to be in peril.


	6. The Unfortunate Event

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the unfortunate discovery

Lyanna stared at the man in front of her. He seemed not too surprise at the sight of her wand pointed at him. Nor did he look afraid.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked.

She watched as the shadows writhed behind the man's back and she instantly knew that this bald man in silk, who smelled like lilacs and rosewater, was being controlled by her true enemy.

He's been possessed like so many others before him.

Like Brynden said, her enemy had legions under his influence. Legions of people who are force to do his bidding. To make blood sacrifices in his name. War and bloodshed that he thrives on.

She could see the ancient entity lurking in the man's eyes as he met Lyanna's gaze and she wonders how the Night King, the Great Other, was able to use his powers inside the Wall and among the living. Like Brynden used the Weirwood tree to see far and beyond, her enemy must be using some kind of conduit that helps him see through the eyes of men. To warg into them and skinchange if they die an untimely death.

Bryden had warn Lyanna that the Night King's goal was to break the Wall and see his heir sits the Iron Throne, which would in turn release the Great Other from his role as the Dying and Rising God. A role that he is force to endure after falling into this world that turned into his prison.

Hence, Lyanna decided right then and there that she must act fast before her enemy could do something to her first.

"Obliviate!" She said swiftly.

At once, a white light erupted from her wand and went straight towards the bald man, who simply blinked in surprise as the spell hit him.

Not wanting to be caught, Lyanna instantly made a run for it as soon as she threw the Obliviate spell at the man. As she ran, she cast the notice-me-not charm and disillusionment charm on her once more, hoping that this time her high-strung emotion would not affect her magic at all.

She continued to run. Her dark brown hair and travelling cloak whipping behind her as she passed oblivious people walking through the hallways and down the stairs of the Red Keep. They didn't glance at Lyanna when she ran passed them. Like before she entered the castle, she was rendered invisible once again.

In the distance, she heard the bells began to ring, which signaled one thing.

The King was dead.

Her mission was a complete success.

However, someone had seen her in the Red Keep and she could only hope that the man wouldn't remember their encounter. She terribly hoped that the Obliviate spell had work on him even though she had cast it hastily.

Lyanna returned to the Inn where she had left her horse and swiftly left King's Landing. She rode fast and tirelessly back to Winterfell like the devil himself was after her, which was not farther from the truth.

.

.

.

"Someone saw me!" She immediately reported to Brynden as soon as she was able to. "He saw my face!"

"I told you to keep your spells active while you are there," the old man pointed out to her.

"I thought I did, but somehow my magic faltered for a moment due to my negative and conflicting emotions after I killed the King," Lyanna explained.

"That is unfortunate then. However, I have already foreseen this happen, and the man who saw you is none other than Varys the Spider, who has spies all throughout the Seven Kingdoms. This does not bode well for you, Lyanna Stark. If he remembers you lurking in the Red Keep, then I believe that once the eunuch starts his search for the King's assassin, he will most certainly start with you."

"If you have foreseen this happen, then why didn't you warn me about it?" She demanded.

"I didn't warn you because if I did, you would have face with another dire situation," was Brynden's response.

"What could be worst than me being discovered by the Master of Whisperers?" She said.

"If I have told you everything, then you would have encountered a far worst foe than the eunuch in the Red Keep. You would have met the human vessel of our immortal enemy."

Lyanna was silent while she contemplated the three-eyed-raven's words.

"Do you think the Obliviate spell work on the eunuch?" She asks him after a moment.

"He was under the influence of our true enemy when he has seen you. So no. The spell you cast upon him probably hasn't work on him at all."

"What shall I do then? If he finds out that I'm the assassin, then I will be putting my family's life at risk. I am certain that the people will blame my Lord father for this if I'm found out. They will probably think that my Lord father has ordered me to kill the King."

"Dear child, the only solution to your problem is for you to disappear and take a new identity." Brynden replied. "I have already foreseen this happening. That's the reason I told you before that you won't have a choice but to leave your family behind a moons turn from now. The time will come when Varys' spies will find you, despite your efforts to hide, where you will only endanger your family's life. Your connection to House Stark will bring your family's ruin. Thus, it's better that you severe your family ties and become someone else before Varys' birds finds you.."

"But I don't want to leave my family behind..." Lyanna stated.

"Like I said, you won't have a choice in the future, Lyanna Stark. It will be taken from you the moment Varys' spies discover who you are and your whereabouts."

.

.

.

True enough, the news of the King's untimely demise reached the North two days after Lyanna's arrival. Unfortunately for her, the news came alongside an information regarding the assassin who killed the King.

Apparently, her obliviate spell hadn't work on the Master of Whisperers for the eunuch had sent a detailed description of her, the assassin, all throughout the Seven Kingdoms. It was said that the Prince had set up a large bounty for the assassin who killed his father.

Now, everyone knew what the assassin looked like. Lyanna was no longer safe in staying in Winterfell and being connected to her family. She might now be recognize by Varys and his spies, especially when Lyanna's Lord Father received an invitation to come to King's Landing for Prince Rhaegar's coronation a moon turns from now.

Brynden was right. Lyanna no longer had a choice but to leave her home.

"And go where?" She asked Brynden one night. "Where should I go after I leave my family?"

"Perhaps you should go across the Narrow Sea. To Pentos." came the old man's reply.

"Why would I go there?" She said in complete puzzlement.

"Because I have a certain task for you, Lyanna Stark."

"What kind of task do you want me to do?" She asked.

"Its a task that requires stealth and magic. I want you to steal something for me." the old man told her.

"Go straight to the point and tell me what you want me to steal." Lyanna said impatiently.

"I want you to steal a chest containing three petrified dragon eggs." the three-eyed-raven informed her.

Lyanna's eyes widened at this and said, "And why would I need to do such a thing?"

"Because you need dragons in the coming Battle for the Dawn. So you must steal and hatch these eggs to acquire the three dragons."

There was a short pause as Lyanna considered this difficult task that Brynden presented to her.

"When do you intend for me to steal these eggs?" She inquired.

"As soon as possible," came the old man's reply. "However, the decision to leave your home is truly in your hands. Whether you do it after Robert Baratheon's visit or before that, it is entirely up to you."

"I want to remain with my family for as long as I can," Lyanna replied. "So I will wait after Robert Baratheon's visit before I will make my final decision to leave."

"Then, that is settled. Just remember child that Varys' spies are everywhere and you don't know who they are. You must make certain that you are not recognize by any of them."

"I will do my best to keep myself from being recognize, Brynden. Perhaps a different change in hairstyle is in order."

.

.

.

Thankfully, no one really noticed Lyanna's absence in Winterfell. In fact, it seemed everything was normal when she came back from King's Landing. The moment she did, she immediately threw the straw dummy from her bed and released the Imperio curse from the Maester.

The Maester had then declared that she had made a full recovery from the Dragon Pox. Well, except Lyanna had chosen to cast a spell on herself that made her skin looked pox-marked. Her Lord father was absolutely disappointed at the sight of her blemished skin, but she had done so to discourage Robert Baratheon's attention.

More than that, Lyanna had also decided to cut her hair short. In fact, she had cut her hair close to her ears that she now looked like a boy. Her Lord father had been furious afterward and demanded why she had done such a foolish thing. In response, Lyanna had just shrugged her shoulders and said that her long locks was hard to maintain so that's the reason she cut her hair.

Thus, that was the sight that greeted Robert Baratheon the moment he arrived in Winterfell a week later. With Lyanna sporting an amalgamation of purple marks on her skin and looking like a boy, which seemed to shock the Baratheon heir.

Furthermore, since Lyanna Stark was given a new mission, she was determine to see it through. Other than becoming someone else to hide herself from Varys' spies, she was going to steal those petrified dragon eggs and hatch them herself.

She was going to raise those dragons and become their mother.

Lyanna Stark was going to be the Mother of Dragons as the three-eyed-raven would soon tell her.


End file.
